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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2016 


https://archive.org/details/emersonianemerso1913unse 


The Emersonian 

VOLUME VI 

PUBLISHED BY 

THE STUDENTS’ ASSOCIATION 

EMERSON COLLEGE OE ORATORY 


BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS 



®0 “IJopgp” 


tofjosfe gruff kinblines;s> anb gentle fatberliness 
babe enbeareb bint to eberpone in emersion. 3n 
appreciation of bis constant SerbtceS anb totUing 
response to tbe bemanbs mabe upon bim bp all 
of us in bis cbosen task, toe bebicate tbis bolume 
as a token of esteem to 


Ssteacfjar Clbrtbge 


EDITORS 


®fjt (Emersonian Poarii 


Editor-i n-C hief 
Jessie Isabelle Dalton 
Assistant Editor-in-Chief 
Martha Lela Carey 

Associate Editors 
Mia Stanton 
Bertha McDonough 
Minnie Bell Frazine 

Art Editor 

Amelia Myel Green 

Associate Art Editors 
Riiea Evalynn Ashley 
J. Ethelwyn Cunningham 
Helen Hubbard 
Clara M. Theisen 

Business Manager 

Allene Buckhout 





Content* 


PAGE 

Alumni Ill 

Associations 94-98 

Athletics 92-93 

Classes 54-68 

College Events 110 

Dedication 5 

Dramatics 86-91 

Emerson College Magazine ... 85 

Fun 112-115 

Junior Week 83-84 

Lectures and Recitals 82 

Literature 69-76 

Ninteen Hundred and Thirteen . . 30-53 

Officers of the College and Faculty 9-29 

Poetry 77-81 

Societies 99-109 


©ur CeacfierS 


tobo babe fielpeb us, bp gibing expression to our un= 
bebelopeb potentialitiesi, to ftnb our true SelbeS anb in 
tf )t finbtng, to fit ourselbes to carrp on tfjcir bital 
toorfe of Soul culture. 

GTbrougb tfje incibental tasks tofjtcfj mustneebs be 
tebtous, tbep babe persebereb, gibing us guibance anb 
birection in tbe path of lUfe until toe babe reacljeb tbe 
tbresbolb of that ball of Serbtce tobere toe map trp to 
carrp out tbeir precepts. 

®bep babe taugbt us tbe supreme balue of perSon= 
alitp linfeeb toitb training, to bolb btgb tbe Stanbarb 
of expert abilitp jotneb toitb personal inspiration. 



HENRY LAWRENCE SOUTHWICK 

PRESIDENT 


f 



HARRY SEYMOUR ROSS 

DEAN 



ALLEN ARTHUR STOCKDALE 


CHAPLAIN 




WILLIAM HOWLAND KENNY 

TECHNIQUE OF THE VOICE 



CHARLES WINSLOW KIDDER 

vocal physiology; hygiene of the voice; acoustics 



WALTER BRADLEY TRIPP 

DRAMATIC INTERPRETATION; HISTORY OF THE DRAMA; IMPERSONATION 



WILLIAM G. WARD, A. M. 

ENGLISH LITERATURE; PSYCHOLOGY 



SILAS A. ALDEN, M. D. 

APPLIED ANATOMY; HYGIENE; PHYSICAL TRAINING 



PRISCILLA C. PUFFER 
gesture; elocution 





ELSIE R. RIDDELL 

gymnastics; fencing; aesthetic dancing 






HARRIET C. SLEIGHT 

anatomy; physiology; hygiene 



LILIA ESTELLE SMITH 

HISTORY OF EDUCATION; PEDAGOGY; SCHOOL MANAGEMENT 




EL VIE BURNETT WILLARD 

LYCEUM AND CONCERT READING; INSTRUCTOR IN REPERTOIRE 




FOSS LAMPRELL WHITNEY 

PERSONAL CRITICISM; EVOLUTION OF EXPRESSION 




GERTRUDE McQUESTEN 

TECHNIQUE OF THE VOICE; ARTICULATION 






GERTRUDE M. CHAMBERLIN 

BROWNING AND TENNYSON 




MAUD GATCHELL HICKS 


DRAMATIC LITERATURE AND INTERPRETATION 



AGNES KNOX BLACK 


LITERARY INTERPRETATION; ANALYSIS; 
READING AS A FINE ART 



EBEN CHARLTON BLACK, A. M., LL. D. 

POETICS; ENGLISH AND AMERICAN LITERATURE 




ROBERT HOWES BURNHAM 

DRAMATIC TRAINING; MAKE-UP 




Senior ©fftcera: 

Amelia Myel Green .... President 

Frederick R. Dixon .... Vice-President 
Martha Lela Carey .... Secretary 

Mary Shambach Treasurer 

Class Colors 
Red and White 

Class Flower 
Carnation 

Class Cheer 

Chic-a Chac-a Chie 
Chic-a Chac-a Cho 
Nineteen Thirteen 
E. C. O. 


Mentors 

Ho! Hook 
anti pou shall 
beholb an arrap 
of faces tofncf) habe 
selbom before been Seen 
altogether in one group. 

&h, pes, ask the ipresibent 
of the Mentor Class hobo many 
times she has been able to gather 
us all before her. Put nobo, in this 
our gallerp, boe are bohere toe cannot 
run aboap. &S pou turn the pages pou 
catch us unatoares, anb no longer can 
rehearsals be our plea for escape. i?o, toe 
are here, looking our best, too, anb it is 
thus toe booulb habe pou remember us, 
for after our trials anb tribulations of 
Commencement, boe shall not look 
so inspiring as boe bo nobo. 

&>o, turn, Sngutsttor! anb let 
the fullness of our faces, the 
lustre of our epes anb 
calm repose of manner 
remain in pour mem= 
orp as tppifping 
the brilliant anb 
capable class of 
1913 



Amelia Myrl Green, 

St. John, New Brunswick, Canada 

Class President, ’13 

Amelia Green, oh who has seen 
A dearer, sweeter girl? 

Would that all Life’s announcements 
Could be made by Myrl. 


A Model Girl 


Frederick R. Dixon, 

South Gastonbury, Vermont 

He was one of the men of our Senior Class, 
You know we had but two, 

But we used him to advantage 
As Bianca in “The Shrew.” 


Funny Romeo Doings 


Mary Ellen Shambach, 

Espy, Pennsylvania 

President of Student Association, ’13 
Class Treasurer, T3 

It’s a lovely name, is Mary — 

And she is truly named; 

For she was the living presence 
Of that for which we aimed. 


Makes Everything Satisfactory 


32 ] 




Martha Lela Carey, 

Lumberville, Pennsylvania 

Class Secretary, ’13 
Stunt Committee, ’12 
Prom Committee, ’12 

Assistant Editor-in-Chief of Year Book, ’13 

Like to a delicate blue harebell, 
Deep-rooted with strength of stem, 

And a fragrance ever reaching 
To the hearts of her fellowmen. 


Recitals Ever Appalling 


Lillian Marie Anne, AA<S> 

Barron, Wisconsin 

Junior Stunt Committee, ’12 

Lovely Lady Lillian, 

Ready to make excuse, 

Somehow with the hearts of men, 

She played the very deuce. 


Magnanimous, Loyal, Conscientious 


Rhea Evalynn Ashley, AA4> 

Middletown, New York 

Class Vice-President, ’10 

She was the one with the big brown eyes, 
Hair with a bit of curl, 

Gazing from under the shepherdess hat, 

Just a bewitching girl. 


Liked Matinees Awfully 


[33 



Interesting While Bostoning 

Elizabeth Lorraine Beattie KTX 

Rochester, New York 

Ah, our Betty sure is Irish, 

As her rich color shows; 

She’s a big heart and beauty and talent, 
That everybody knows. 


Erin’s Laughing Belle 


Laura Elizabeth Bell. Z<t>H 

Enosburg Falls, Vermont 

Bessie Bell from cold Vermont, 

With her piquant pug of hair, 

Was ever ready for a romp 
An’ wouldn’t take a dare. 


Inez Washburn Bassett, 

Middleboro, Massachusetts 


If you’re looking for a reader, 

Inez Bassett knows a store, 

For she’s known here at the College, 
As “the girl with the repertoire.” 


Loves Every Body 


34 ] 



Mary F. Blanchet, 

Manchester. New Hampshire 

As Araminta with ruffles and curls, 

With wiggles and giggles, too, 

She played her part in the Garrick play, 
With a touch that sure rang true. 


Mighty Few Blunders 

Disa Eleanor Brackett, <t>Mr 

Roxbury, Massachusetts 

Student Council, ’ll 
Chairman of Junior Prom, ’12 
Commencement Committee, ’13 

Now, what do you think of Disa, 

In giving us such a shock, 

She must place her own name in Brackets for sure, 
And take Allen in wedlock. 


Helen Brewer, $Mr 

Bar Harbor, Maine 

Class Treasurer, ’ll, ’12 
Prom Committee, ’12 


Deserves Eternal Bliss 


There’s such a charm about her, 
We couldn’t get on without her, 
Her ways boyish, mad, and bold. 
Strung upon a thread of gold. 


Heart Breaker 


[ 35 ] 



Ethel Currie Brooks, 

Cambridge, Massachusetts 


Prom Committee, ’12 


Mrs. Brooks deserted her books, 
A college bride to be; 

Wonder if she’ll stop as Senior 
Or come back as a P. G. 


Eloping College Bride 


Laughing, Mischievous “Bud” 


Allene Buckhout, 

Ossining, New York 

Chairman Stunt Committee, ’12 

Magazine Board, ’12 

Y. W. C. A. Vice-President ’12 

Stunt Committee, ’13 

Secretary Students’ Association, ’13 

Business Manager of Year Book, ’13 

Mighty frank, I tell you what, 

But underneath somewhere, 

There’s a touch of poetry, 

That makes her mighty fair. 


Lillian Marie Brown, 


Massachusetts 


“Bud” we were wont to call her, 
She won out in comedy stroke, 
Her first success was Chrysos, 
And her last a Rev. joke. 






Astoundingly Brainy 


36 ] 




Lillian R. Carlen, 

Winthrop Centre, Massachusetts 

Endowment Committee, ’12 
Prom Committee, ’12 

Lady Lillian dines at the Plaza, 

To opera and theatre goes, 

If dramatics is your subject, 

It’s Lillian who always knows. 




Likely Literary Contributor 


Mabelle Maxine Clow, 

Rochester, New Hampshire 

An arm and a hand in a curved line, 

A body poised on two small feet, 

• A dizzying dance, and a ballet gown, 

And you see this maid complete. 


Likes Rich Chaps 


Lillian Lee Clark, Niantic, Connecticut 

Endowment Committee, ’ll 
Stunt Committee, ’13 
Y. W. C. A. Cabinet, ’13 
Magazine Reporter, ’13 

His name is ever on her lips, 

Yes, ever and anon — 

But will anybody tell me 

Just who is this man, “John”? 


[37 


Manipulating Much Coquetry 


Mary A. Cody, 



Cambridge, Massachusetts 

Class Vice-President, ’12 
Class Marshal, ’12 
Commencement Committee, ’13 

She’s as sweet and neat and simple 
As a daisy in the sun, 

“Yet what a queenly Marshal!” 

Was the comment from everyone. 


Manages Any Concern 
J. Ethelwynn Cunningham, 

Toronto, Canada 

There is something very lovely 
In this versatile maid from the North; 

We wonder which of Life’s games she’ll win, 

This pretty, pouty Ethelwynn. 


Judiciously Expressed Comradeship 


Jessie Isabelle Dalton, 

Long Branch, New Jersey 

Class President, ’ll 
Stunt Committee, ’ll 
Student Council, ’12 
Editor-in-Chief of Year Book, ’13 

From college infancy to college old age, 

We have somehow waited for “Jess” 

To jump to her feet with words of advice, 

In our moments of direst distress. 


Jolly, Impulsive, Domestic 


[ 38 ] 


I 



J. Docia Dodd, 

Vaughn, Washington 

Oh, yes, Docia loved the sweetheart role, 

She impassioned it for sure, 

But we owe lots to Docia, 

True prophecies and — figure. 


Joyfully Doing Duties 


X. Druscilla Dodson, 

Burns, Oregon 

Some rich treasures were given you, Drucie, 
When into this world you came, 

But everyone of us wonders 

Who gave you your funny name. 


Let X = Dainty Dresser 


Bernice Mildred Durgin, 

Strafford, New Hampshire 

What a service you did render 
To the girls in Normal Class, 

By the way you kept the roll call, 

But that’s what let some pass. 


[39 


Beyond Much Description 




Dorothy Elderdice, A. B., Z<t>H 

Westminster, Maryland 

Dorothy, rosy cheeked maiden, 

We’ll remember you the best, 

As winning the first prize offered 
For the annual story contest. 


Delightful, Enthusiastic 
Alice Love Esmond, AA<t> 

Oneonta, New York 


I know a girl with a heart of gold, 

And a mind that acts as but few, 

And I know that I’ll always remember her 
And love her well. Won’t you? 



/ 


Aesthetic Little Elf 


Alice May Faulkner, KTX 

Lewiston, Maine 

Alice went three years to the B. U. 

When she first came down from Maine, 
Then she was very retiring, 

Now she raises Cain. 


A Merry Funmaker 


[ 40 ] 



Eva Eleanor Felker, 

Burlington, Iowa 

Poor little Eva! She would insist 
That her voice was a horrid one ; 

And when all vowed it wasn’t so, 

She still thought them making fun. 


Caroline Woods Ferris, 

Los Angeles, California 


At college her theatric instinct 
& Has won her a world of fame, 
But otherwheres that same instinct 
Is called by another name. 


Ever-Eating Fiji 


Cumbered With Fascinations 


Abbie May Fowler, AA<h 

Rome, New York 

Stunt Committee, ’ll 
Chairman of Junior Week, ’12 

Blonde hair, dressed high and a stunning gown, 
As stunning as ever you’ve seen; 

In the realm of social life and whirl. 

She was a very queen. 



[ 41 ] 


A Majestic Figure 



Bertha F. M. Gorman, 

Charlottetown, P. E. I., Canada 

Ask Bert to learn a dozen lines. 

She has trouble to memorize, 

But let her make the whole thing up, 

And at once she’ll improvise. 


Ever Reaping Good 
Alice Gertrude Green, 

Lakeland, Florida 

With thoughts on the Southland (and perhaps 
someone else) ; 

For one seldom saw her an hour 
Without a monstrous big bouquet, 

Or at least one little flower. 


Been Fortunate, Much Gain 


Emile Rounsevel Goss, 

Bernard, Vermont 
Associate Editor of Magazine, ’12, ’13 

This good girl we can remember, 

As one who was ever kind; 

It was she who always kept the names, 

Of her sick classmates in mind. 


A Gracious Giver 


[ 42 ] 



Clara B. Gunderson, 

Huron, South Dakota 

As she was walking in the Gardens 
Those late September days, 

Her mass of hair more glorious seemed 
Beneath the sun’s bright rays. 


Couldn’t Be Graver 
Leila D. Harris, $Mr 

Champlain, Illinois 

This lady loved her fellowmen ; 

Loved them all to such excess 
That everyone was “Honey,” 

(One “Honeyer” we confess). 



Loves Dancing Hours 


Florence Southward Hinckley, Z4>H 

Everett, Massachusetts 
Junior Prom Committee, ’12 

She’s a very little person, you know, 

With a voice so sweet and clear and low; 

She’s a bit of a tease and a bit of a flirt, 

But she never says things that really hurt. 



Fortune Surely Hovers 


[ 43 ] 


Helen Hubbard, 



Stamford, New York 

Class Secretary, ’ll 

Like the morning-glory, 

Was this child with the mocking eyes, 

Yet down beneath those glances 
Something lovely lies. 


Happy Hearted 

Myrtie May Hutchinson, ZOH 

Melrose, Massachusetts 

Wasn’t it pleasant in those old days, 

To look across the aisle, 

And see Myrtie sitting there 
With her slow sweet smile. 


Making Many Happy 


Nella Kingsbury, 

Boston, Massachusetts 

I think that everyone of us, 

Will remember through all his days 
That Nella sought out the good part 
In each of us to praise. 


Neighborly Kindness 


44 ] 


Amy Loyola La Vigne 


Rochester, New York 



A Lovable Lass 

Helen E. Leavitt, AA<l> 

Cambridge, Massachusetts 

A most decided person, 

With a medical turn of mind, 

But if hair and eyes mean anything, 

She’s some thoughts of another kind. 


Harbors Eternal Love 
Ida Matilda Leslie, 

Halifax, N. S., Canada 

This girl as a loyal patriot 
Is the greatest you ever saw. 

On the slightest provocation 
She shouts “Canada! Hurrah!” 


She is generally known as attractive, 
With a dancing eye and a smile, 
But the friends who really know her, 
See beneath all, a girl worth while. 


[45 


Indeed Most Logical 




Rushes Mails (?) Wildly 
Vera S. MacDonald, 

Allston, Massachusetts 

She played Romeo and Juliet, 

With abandon quite amazing; 

Ah, Vera, if you’d always work 
You’d set us all a-praising. 


Ruth Margery West, 4>Mr 

Shelburne, Vermont 

She had the sweetest manners, 

Yet search the zenith round, 

When ’twas time for a rehearsal 
West wasn’t to be found. 


Isabel L. MacGregor, 

Riverport, N. S., Canada 


A man “who would a-wooing go,” 
Might apply to Miss MacGregor, 
For Saunders won his lassie so, 

And lived in peace forever. 


Veritable Society Muse 


Incorrigible Lively Minx 


[ 46 ] 


Jean MacLatchy, 


Campbellton, N. B., Canada 

You remember Jean MacLatchy, 

That canny little Scott, 

Who read those lines for Mrs. Hicks 
The rest of us could not. 




Jaunty Maid 

Anna Maude MacLean, 

Charlottetown, P. E. I., Canada 

Another Canadian damsel 

Is our Maude with demure little ways; 
“None knew her but to love her, 

None named her but to praise.” 


A Mild Miss 

Jessie Mackenzie Matheson, 

Plainfield, N. S., Canada 

Class Secretary, ’12 
Y. W. C. A. Secretary, ’12 
President Y. W. C. A., ’13 

There’s a memory very tender, 

That comes to mind with Jean, 

A something that’s felt within you, 

But seldom if ever seen. 


Jovial Merry Mortal 


[47 



Phyllis L. Moorehead, 

Indiana, Pennsylvania 

A glance at this fair maiden, 

With her happy, smiling face, 

And we understand why Phyllis 
Means simplicity and grace. 


Pretty Little Maiden 
Olive Olga Newton, Z<t>H 

Athol, Massachusetts 

She had such pretty color, 

And a mighty winning way; 

You know hers was the leading part 
In the commencement play. 


Our Own Nonpareil 

Evelyn Rees Norcross, 

Washington, District of Columbia 
Chairman Stunt Committee, ’13 

A literary lass, indeed, 

Witness the Senior stunt, 

One who in the world of letters 
Is sure to reach the front. 




Elicits Real Notability 


[ 48 ] 



Evelyn Catherine Oalkers, KTX 

North Tonawanda, New York 

Junior Stunt Committee, ’ll 
Senior Stunt Committee, ’12 
Class Secretary, ’12 
Commencement Committee, ’13 

“In the morning, oh, so early,” 

Her voice sounded down the hall. 

She’s brim full of life and action 
Tho’ she isn’t very tall. 


Exemplary, Capable, Optimistic 
Pearl Aldana Parsley, 

Williamsburg, Virginia 

Secretary of Y. W. C. A., ’12 
Treasurer of Y. W. C. A , ’13 

Not always do we find a name 
That really suits a girl, 

But the fairies must have whispered 
When this babe was christened Pearl. 


Practical, Amiable, Philosophical 


Alice I. Pearson, 

Newton Centre, Massachusetts 


Gracious, graceful Alice, 

Pearson was her other name. 
When it came to a stage picture 
She really deserved a frame. 


[49 


An Imposing Princess 



M. Josephine Penick, 

Martin, Tennessee* 

We all remember her teaching. 

Her mental grasp on things; 

Her mind disposed of the subject 
While we were trying our wings. 


v 


Might Join Politics 


Mary Boyd Persinger, Z < t>H 

Birmingham, Alabama 

“That regal, indolent air she had, 

So confident of her charm,” 

Yet her smile was sweet, you remember, 
Though she didn’t mean to harm. 




Majestic Beauty Pictured 


Blanche L. Phillips, 

Berkshire, New York 

Poor Phipsy! One night of her college life 
We know she will not forget — 

The night she never went to bed, 

Blue Book!!! Romeo and Juliet!!! 


Black Lashes Play 


[ 50 ] 


Lillian Porter, 


Dallas, Texas 


Tall she was and very slender, 
This story-telling muse, 

With a lilting, lighting comedy 
That made the powers enthuse. 






Loves Pickaninnies (?) 


Wayne W. Putnam, 


Cheer Leader, ’13 


Wooster, Ohio 


Mr. Putnam came out of the West, 

Out of the West where the sun goes down; 
And surely no one will ever forget 
How he acted in Boston Town. 


Women Wait Patiently 


Allie Haley Rice, 

Riceville, Tennessee 

A maid with a voice like Omar 
That hinted at tragic woe; 

Yet there was fun about her, 

She played “Tony,” don’t you know. 


A Haughty Reserve 


[ 51 ] 


Mary W. Safford, 



Cambridge, Massachusetts 

Always thoughtful for the student 
That had a hill to climb; 

She headed the list for our scholarship fund, 
We’ll not forget that time. 


Marshals Woman Suffrage 

Clara M. Theisen, Z<t>H 

Minneapolis, Minnesota 

How she tried to be an angel 
In the Physical Culture Class! 

And how she read “Sister Beatrice,” 

In a way not to surpass! 



Considers Men Tiresome (?) 


Edith Rosanna Walton, 

Strandsburg, Pennsylvania 

If you want her for rehearsal, she is always there; 
If you want her to play “Tony” she assumes a 
“Tony” air. 

She is ready in recitals or to teach in Normal 
Class; 

One can truly say of Edith, “A dependable lass.” 


Ever Ready Waiter 


[ 52 ] 



Marjorie M. Westcott, Z<t>H 

Richford, New York 

Fortunately for Marjorie, 

She usually drew a part 
That called for a rose and a Meredith curl, 
And some business about a heart. 


Mysteriously Managed Work 


Julia Jeannette Wiggins, 

Jefferson, Iowa 

Your “Mrs. H.” was clever indeed, 

Poor, “would-be” and pompous old soul; 
And we quite agreed with Professor Tripp 
That you were the best in that role. 


Justice Judiciously Wrought 


Rose Johnson Willis, Z<I>H 

Norfolk, Virginia 

A daughter of the South she was, 

With chestnut eyes and hair; 

We never could explain it — but 
We felt sure when Rose was there. 


[53 


Right Jolly Witch 



Junior €Hf iters 

Mildred Johnson President 

Mattie Riseley Vice-President 

Sadie O’Connell Treasurer 

.Laura Curtis Secretary 


Class Flower 
Jonquil 

Class Colors 
Green and Gold 

Class Cheer 

Rifty, Rafty, Riff Raff 
Chifty, Chafty, Chiff Chaff 
Riff Raff 
Chiff Chaff 

Let us give a horse laff 
Haw 


Juniors! 

[ 54 ] 



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57 



THE 

PATH 


FINDERS. 


freshmen officers 


albert f. smith 
theodosia peak 
albert lovejoy 
Helen smith 


. president 
vice-president 
. secretary 
. treasurer 


CLASS FLOWER 

pink rose 


CLASS COLOR 

pink 

CLASS CHEER 

rah for the freshmen 
rah — rah — rah 

o such a class you never saw — 
no one in them can find a flaw- 
rail for the freshmen 
rah — rah — rah 


CLASS ROLL 


bailey, lora e. 
benjamin, c. evelyn 
bigler, grace m. 
bradfield, burwell 1. 
bradford, vera 
bradley, frances 
brown, emily freeman 
brown, harriet, m. 
call, hazel gertrude 
davis, robert h. 
frazine, minnie bell 
gildersleeve, amy 
grunewald, marguerite a. 
hawkins, ethel florence 
henry, helene mar 
jettd, georgette h. 
jones, edith carolyn 
Ivon, mattie 
lovejoy, albert russell 
mace, louise 1. 


macdonald, c. jean 
mac gill, genevieve m. 
marrinan, nelly 
meredith, laura mae 
miller, may m. 
morrison, gertrude 
neel, ethel mallor 
peak, theodosia s. 
perry, beatriee elinor 
ramsey, helen pritchard 
scott, edith r. 
small, grace eleanor 
smith, albert francis 
smith, helen moss 
southwick, ruth 
Sturdivant, elizabeth m. 
vincent, marion f. 
waterhouse, gladysmae b 
Westbrook, florence 


[ 58 ] 


tfje pu$e page 

fresfyman impressions 


before coming to college the prospective 
emersbn freshman is visited by many 
strange and beautiful dreams she sees 
herself walking up and down the narrow 
crooked streets in the very steps of the 
nation’s greatest she sees herself in 
various places of historic interest and 
last but not least she sees herself in 
college she has visions of long study 
hours as well as of midnight spreads and 
hazings 

but the time of dreams passes quickly 
by and freshman finds herself in boston 
the city of her fond hopes as well as of 
baked beans and culture on the day be- 
fore the opening of school as she leaves 
the train she gives one bewildered look at 
it the station and the narrow crooked 
streets and alleys which lead everywhere 
and nowhere at one and the same time 
and then spying a taxi she jumps in and 
with a thankful heart pronounces the 
magic word emerson chauffeur bows 
and freshman rides to the college in state 
there she meets the president and dean 
and then begins the hunt for a room 
they send an older girl with a list of 
available rooms with her and they start 
bravely forth she prefers to carry her 
suit-case and umbrella for they seem to 
give her something tangible to grasp 
her companion talks about the college 
as she skillfully guides her around they 
are forced to wander over considerable 
territory and oh that suit-case some 
rooms are dark others have no heat 
more than that she wants emersonians in 
the house with her and then they find 
a room that seems just right but soon 
find that the chafing-dish is debarred now 
every college freshman knows that she 
simply cannot exist without it and so 
the search is resumed but all troubles 
quickly pass and she finds a room and 
room-mate that just suit Irel- 
and then she goes back again to the 
office as quickly as possible upon being 
asked if she is not satisfied with her place 
she replies yes thank you i have my 
room and i like it very much but i want 
to buy some college stationery she is 


promptly accommodated and then with 
a thumping little heart and hurried 
glances in all directions at the numbers 
over each and every door she finds her 
way back to her own room and begins 
to write letters to the folks at home she 
cries herself to sleep that night and the 
next morning is ready to start upon her 
college career 

so having gone through all of the pre- 
liminary stages of homesickness she goes 
down early to perform the sacred duty 
of registration there she finds a vast 
crowd assembled for the old students are 
arriving and such a grand hand-shaking 
and embracing laughing and talking you 
never saw unless you too have been an 
emerson freshman the voices and laugh- 
ter run the entire gamut of the musical 
scale and every principle of expression 
ever heard or dreamed of in our philoso- 
phy is put into practice on the spot ani- 
mation and volume are perhaps the most 
noticeable characteristics every few min- 
utes another girl arrives and then occurs 
what might be called a vital slide at 
any rate they reach her side promptly 
everyone is bubbling over with the joy 
of getting back and as freshman watches 
their brightness and courtesy as well as 
jollity she feels much better and reflects 
that at one time they too were new and 
strange but she is not alone with her 
feelings of strangeness there are many 
others in fact all about these little 
groups of girls there is a sort of fringe 
of new homesick ones and freshman 
takes her place in the fringe about 
two feet from everyone she endeavors 
to look unconcerned and indifferent but 
finds it next to impossible however she 
keeps very quiet even when spoken to 
and she answers everything as briefly as 
possible for unfortunately there is no 
handbook of freshman etiquette published 
and as she does not at that early date 
know the kind of hazing current at 
emerson she feels that discretion is the 
better part of valor and so maintains 
silence even if the seniors do look sane 
and seem friendly 

Minnie Bell Frazine, ’15 




$o£it (graiiuate ©fhcers 

Helena B. Churchill .... President 

Abbie Ball Vice-President 

i 

Winifred Bent Secretary 

Ruth Watts Treasurer 


Class Colors 
Gold and White 

Class Flower 
Yellow Rose 

Class Cheer 

Hipsa, Miliga, Halliga, Sopsa 
Hipsa, He, Hao 
We are the Class of 1912 
We are so 

E-M-E-R-S-O-N 
’12 — ’12 — ’ 12 ! 



Helena B. Churchill, 

Minneapolis, Minnesota 

Stunt Committee, ’12 
Commencement Committee, ’12 
Class President, ’13 

In a gym suit of green, the greatest you’ve seen, 
There never was another 
On young or old or timid or bold, 

As that one worn by “mother.” 


Abbie Anne Ball, 

** Millington, Quebec, Canada 

Class Vice-President, ’13 

O thou masculine mind, what a woman thou art, 
And how thou dost love repartee, 

And maybe that is the reason 

Why they’re (?) all so afraid of thee. 


Winifred Hamilton Bent, Z<t>H 

West Somerville, Massachusetts 

Class Vice-President, ’12 
Y. W. C. A. Cabinet, ’ll, ’12 
Stunt Committee, ’ll 
Class Secretary, T3 

If the work piles high and you’ve so many lines 
To learn, that you get the dumps, 

Do as W did and go to bed 

With an awful case of mumps. 




Rachel Alverda Kanaar, B. A., M. A. 

It was she who could wear a cap and gown 
And a hood with a kind of “frieze,” 

For she’s traveled and studied the country o’er, 
And those stripes stand for degrees. 





Edna Delphin Case, 

Blossbury, Pennsylvania 


Student Council, ’ll 
President of Y. W. C. A. 
Class Treasurer, ’13 
Student Council, ’13 


T2 


Avillian! A very villian! 

Who’d believe it in this Case? 

She’s a good girl in Y. W., 

But when she plays, there is no trace. 


Olive B. Clark, AA$ 

Milford, New Hampshire 

This is the age when much beauty is false, 
And one’s hair is not always her own; 

So when a girl has a wealth of hair, 

As has Olive, it ought to be known. 



[ 63 ] 







Mary M. Sullivan, 

Westerly, Rhode Island 

“Bobby,” you’re just the cutest thing; 

We can see you yet, as you sat 
On the floor, in “The Game of Comedy,” 
And naively asked, “How’s that?” 


Deana Mary Coad, 

Livermore, Pennsylvania 

Why did you shock your home folk so? 

That joke was too sinister. 

Next time you tell them such a tale, 

Don’t make it a minister. 


Anna M. Keck, Z<t>H 

Johnstown, New York 


Stunt Committee, ’10 
Junior Week Committee, ’ll 
Endowment Committee, ’ll 
Cheer Leader, ’ll, ’12, ’13 


Ann has wide perspective 

On matters of right and wrong, 
And in some of the Brown- — studies 
Those opinions were pretty strong. 


[ 64 ] 




Ruth Beth Watts, Z<t>H 

Dover, New Jersey 
Class Treasurer, ’13 

One would think Ruth had lived among 
English lords, 

The kind who are regular “fops,” 

For without any effort, it seems that both 
Their swagger and speech she adopts. 


Jean Carlyle Welsh, 

Gorham, New Hampshire 

How we shivered and shook behind our book 
And sought to get under cover, 

When you pictured that day, in your grue- 
some way, 

The madness of “Porphyria’s lover.” 


Neva Ferne Walters, 

West Pittston, Pennsylvania 

Y. W. C. A. Cabinet, ’13 
Class Sergeant-at-Arms, ’13 

Perhaps we’ll best remember you 
Throughout our future days, 

As the girl who laughingly tossed her head 
And had such coquettish ways. 








Lillian R. Hartigan, <t>Mr 

Brookline, Massachusetts 

Class Treasurer, TO 

Class Vice-President, ’ll 

Stunt Committee, ’ll 

Commencement Committee, ’12 

Assistant Business Manager of the Year Book, ’ll 

Business Manager of the Year Book, ’12 

Lillian, who poses for pictures, 

And Lillian, the juvenile lead. 

When Lillian isn’t talking, 

She’s going against her creed. 


Alberta Frances Black, 

Ashland, Maine 

’Tis she whom theFresh feared while they loved, 
For she was a “ substitute.” 

Tho her black eyes danced, her lips were firm; 
So they sought for good repute. 




Josephine W. Whitaker, 

Arlington, Massachusetts 

Some are here to be teachers, 

Some are here to shirk, 

Some aim for the stage or platform; 

But she’s here ’cause she loves the work. 


Marguerite Ray Albertson, <t>Mr, Bridgeton, New Jersey 


iPosSt (Sraii fHemories 

The end, alas, is drawing near; 

There is no doubt in it, no fear; 

Yet sad that we so soon must go, 

Forever out from E. C. O. 

We gather, so it doth appear, 

From North and South, from far and near, 

And bring together what we may 
To fashion ’gainst the going ’way. 

Some bring spontaneous youth and joy 
That serious work cannot destroy ; 

Nor Time, nor Place, nor Circumstance 
Can suggest a thoughtful inward glance. 

Others, the earnest, serious side 
Of life portray, whate’er betide; 

And ones on whom we may depend 
To be just and fair and the truth defend. 

The hazy mist of Evolution, 

Julius Caesar and Burke’s Oration, 

Physical Culture and Milton and Chaucer, 

We worry through and understand after. 

On another rung we place our foot, 

In the ladder of fame we’re climbing up. 

The speaker, hearer, subject, too, 

And this is Forensics, through and through. 

Oh, that with every Class you might share 
The joy of analyzing “Vanity Fair.” 

The nights of sleeplessness, days of woe; 

“This paper is due March 8, you know.” 

The Senior Year with its scenes and scenes 
And then more scenes. And this it means, 

That rehearse you must, morn, noon and night. 
Till the scene goes on. Oh, dear delight! 

But the last is best of all the four; 

We backward look and ponder o’er 
All the way that you have come, 

And relish the good things, one by one. 

So to all graduates let me say, 

Return the fourth year, do not say “Nay.” 

’Tis the best, the cream! You’ll be glad if you do, 
If not, I’m afraid your decision you’ll rue. 

Abbie Ball, T2. 


imperial ^tubents’ Roll 

Bixby, Warren Newton 
Coppenrath, Antoinette E. 
Felton, Harry 
Gilman, Esther J. 

Hartwell, Lillian F. 

Howell, Caroline Woods 
Lunt, Alfred D. 

Merrinam, Clifton H. 

Miner, Flora Rice 
Mosher, Pansy Barnes 
Owen, Julie Gore 
Richards, Caroline 
Savery, Emerson Blaine 
Towne, Marie Reed 
Wells, Marion Ann 
Wilson, Nellie Lee 
Weeks, Juliet Naomi 
Stanton, Mia 


LITERATURE 



PROSE 

®fje Unsuspecting (<5ooSe 


HpHERE was nothing romantic about 
him. He gave his name as John 
Hollister, and his occupation as a civil 
engineer. His personal property con- 
sisted of a small trunk, some fishing rods 
and a violin, which he never touched 
until after sunset. In looks, he answered 
to the description of the modern hero, so 
I will not dwell on broad shoulders, 
brown eyes and a waving pompadour. 
His taste in dress was excellent, and his 
manner that of a gentleman. Nothing 
very definite was known about him. 

However, the reason for his coming to 
Peachdale was simple enough. They were 
orphan children, but while Hollister had 
been out West building bridges, his 
pretty little sister had married a million. 
Thus his introduction into society was 
sudden and it was unwelcome. 

Furthermore, it had been arranged by 


his sister and the rest of polite society at 
Sachem, that when Mrs. Van Travers’s 
niece, Rosaline, came on from the West, 
he would take her to a “pink tea,” to a 
“fire-fly” dance, and then out on Silver 
Lake, in a canoe, not ten feet from shore, 
under the influence of a bewitching moon, 
he would ask her to be his wife. She, 
already rehearsed by her aunt, would say, 
“This is so sudden,” and accept him. 
Then they would go ashore and receive 
the blessings of those unfortunate souls, 
who deceive themselves into believing 
they are all things they are not. Mrs. 
Van Travers had already selected the 
country estate for them. She promised 
that Hollister might choose his own car. 

It was a fine July afternoon and some- 
thing in the atmospheric elements sug- 
gested a drive, so Hollister straightway 
provided himself with an outfit from the 


[ 69 ] 


village stable. To begin with, stable 
horses are not selected stock. Poor 
creatures, they have usually served a full 
apprenticeship on an undertaker’s wagon, 
a hack, or in the fire department, and 
just when they should have a little 
chloroform and be put to sleep in mother 
earth, they are bought up by a horse 
dealer — but I am straying from my story. 

•Hollister’s might have served as an 
undertaker’s horse. She was neither 
swift nor very accurate and the wagon 
groaned in every joint. Out of respect 
for her years, he let the gray mare straggle 
along, and once she stopped to nibble a 
birch bough. The road was very narrow. 

Hollister breathed deeply and con- 
gratulated himself on his marvelous 
escape from the charms of Miss Rosaline. 
“Ah, I suppose I would have been 
caged by now. Thank heaven, I am free! 
And my dear little, unknown Rosaline, 
you are lucky, too. After all, perhaps we 
would have been happy. I suppose you 
are now entwining your loving tendrils 
around some unsuspecting goose. What 
nonsense. Gid-ap.” 

Without previous intimation his horse 
neighed lustily and was quickly answered. 
“A team ahead, go slow, old girl. It is 
just around the bend.” Around the bend 
they faced a high-headed bay attached 
to a sheddy little buggy. It stood quite 
alone and occupied all the road. 

“Oh, goodness!” exclaimed a girl in a 
white sailor suit and a broad-brimmed 
Panama, as she scrambled out of the 
bushes, with her arms full of clematis, 
and reached for the bridle of her horse. 

Hollister surveyed the situation grave- 
ly. “No chance of my passing on either 
side?” he asked. “Well, this is a con- 
foundedly narrow road.” 

“I don’t think either of us are to blame,” 
she said. 

“No, I suppose not, but that doesn’t 
solve the problem,” and the man who 
could build a bridge was perplexed. 


“Oh, cheer up,” laughed the girl. “Are 
you in a hurry? I know what we can do, 
exchange wagons.” 

The idea of this slip of a girl telling 
him to cheer up injured his dignity, and 
yet there was something kind of noble 
in her attitude. He mumbled a few 
words including “hurry,” all the time 
painfully conscious of his animal’s speed 
limit. Then he dropped the reins and 
ran his fingers through his thick brown 
pompadour. The girl had meanwhile 
deposited the clematis on the floor of her 
buggy, and again stepping to the side of 
her horse, she began to unfasten some 
straps. 

“We’ll have to take the horses out, turn 
the wagons about, and you can take mine, 
and I’ll drive back to town in yours. I’d 
offer you my horse, but it’s Uncle Dave’s 
blue ribbon ‘Jack,’ and I never drove him 
before. He is very particular about Jack. 
You don’t mind lending me your carriage, 
do you? You live in town, don’t you?” 

“I am staying in town at present, but 
this rig isn’t fit for you to get into.” 

“Oh, never mind thaj^ Anything from 
a wheelbarrow to a limousine suits me. 
I just love to drive.” 

“This is sort of a lame-ozine,” pro- 
tested Hollister. 

The girl laughed gaily. “IU1 have my 
horse out first if you don’t begin. If 
Uncle Dave wouldn’t worry, I’d drive 
back, but it is seven miles the way I have 
come, and it is quite late already. He 
shouldn’t worry about me. I can manage 
any horse on Daddy’s ranch.” 

Hollister jumped to the ground just as 
she led Jack out of the shafts. 

“There, I’ve beat,” she said smiling 
triumphantly. 

“I presume you could beat me at most 
anything,”' Hollister returned, still look- 
ing at his rig with all possible contempt. 

“Let me help you,” she insisted; “I am 
afraid you are in a hurry. Are you?” 
She threw the bridle of her horse over a 


protruding branch and came to his side. 
He turned and looked for an instant 
straight into her deep blue eyes. She 
challenged the best that was in him. 

With considerable force he said, “I 
am going to chuck this thing up in the 
bushes and let you drive past.” He began 
tugging at a wheel. 

"But it will ruin — ” 

“Never mind that,” he interrupted 
kindly. “It would be a risk to let you 
drive that spirited horse in this affair. 
See there.” And one wheel rolled off. 

The girl became less disconcerted as 
Hollister’s attacks on the vehicle became 
more violent. She did not express any 
further feeling for his recklessness either 
by word or look, but began hitching Jack 
into her buggy. Hollister thought that 
she was singing, but her voice was like 
music whenever she spoke. One more 
, tug at the old vehicle and it lay a wreck by 
the roadside. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Will you drive back with me? Come, 
of course you will. You are exhausted. 
There is a delightful spring just a little 
way off where you can have a nice cool 
drink.” 

Her invitation did not lack in alluring 
qualities for Hollister, but he managed 
to say: “Thank you, thank you, but I 
must see my horse back to the stable.” 

“Oh she’ll follow the wagon on a 
halter,” and the girl gave the patient 
animal a little nose pat. 

“Girl,” ejaculated Hollister, “if I were 
to lead that piece of horse flesh back to 
town with your blue ribbon ‘Jack’ setting 
the pace, she’s be a dead one. Better 
leave her here with the wreckage.” 

“Oh, not if I hold Jack in check. 
Come! Do you think I’d be as cruel as 
that?” She mounted to her place and sat 
very straight. Hollister understood the 
significance of her manner and obeyed. 

“I suppose she is entwining her loving 
tendrils around some unsuspecting goose,” 
he was saying to himself. 


For half a mile they hardly spoke. But 
when they had passed the little spring, 
and each had been refreshed by a spark- 
ling drink, conversation began again. 

“I believe you spoke of your father’s » 
ranch,” suggested Hollister. 

“Yes, down in Texas. It’s great fun, 
but it’s kind of lonesome sometimes, and 
one of my aunts sent for me to come 
East — my father’s brother’s wife. My 
uncle is dead. But I am visiting my 
mother’s people now. It’s my first visit 
East. I just dread to go to my other 
aunt’s.” 

“And why?” 

“Because she thinks I have been 
brought up so crude, and she wants to 
introduce me into society, and I’m afraid 
her friends won’t like me.” 

“Oh, they couldn’t help liking you. 
Don’t be afraid of society. It’s the 
greatest bluff in the world. I know about 
it.” 

“You’re very kind, but tell me about 
it.” 

“Well, when you go into society you 
must leave all your ideas outside, and 
never let on that you can ‘manage any 
horse on Daddy’s ranch.’ And if you 
must speak of the ranch disguise it in 
ethereal terms. Then your vocabulary 
must be limited. But it’s easy to catch 
on to the vernacular. Never try to be 
original.” 

“Oh, you are so funny! Do tell me 
some more.” 

“I am just escaping from it. Two 
weeks ago society almost had me married 
to a little creature I had never seen.” 

“How romantic, and my aunt — ” 

“Not at all. But here we are at the 
stable. Thank you for my ride and may 
I ask the name of one who has given me 
such a pleasan" hour?” 

“My name is just Rosaline Van 
Travers.” 

“Ye gods! After all, I am the unsus- 
pecting goose.” 


“Why, what’s the matter?” 

“I am John Hollister. Will you marry 
me?” 

“0— oh— ” 

“ ‘Oh! This is so sudden. Yes.’ No, 
Rosaline, it must be a decision of your 
own heart, and you must have plenty of 


time to decide. But may I call at your 
uncle’s tonight?” 

The wedding in October was a grand 
finale for the season. The estate was 
fine and the limousine a peach. 

Lillian Lee Clark. T3 


®Jje ©dt of (Soil 


Written to be given with the Emerson 
exercises; a double bar indicates a change 
of exercise , a single bar, a change within 
the exercise. The exercises are taken in 
their regular order. 


r | "'HERE is in this world such a strange 
-*■ little thing. | 0 it’s so shy and so 
small. | So very timid and so wild; | quite 
like a flower, it’s so sweet and so mild. | 
Harsh and rude sounds startle a fawn 
from his dell | and a note without love 
sends it quivering apart to closely, 
darkly lie hidden. \ To sunshine and 
warmth a bird’s song will respond | and 
It will always unfold to a smile. || We 
bow to its faith, | we kneel to its trust, | 
and its fresh and bright innocence we 
love and adore. | We marvel its wisdom, | 


we worship its strength. | Yet we fear 
and we pray, it’s so young and so 
small. || It lives all alone in a world of its 
own; | no black, ugly thing enters there, 
Doubt, Fear or Care. | For tho’ all be 
about, | It knows only the fair. | It’s a 
serious, wee thing | with eyes that look 
deep, | and he must give up every art, | 
each conceit, | who would live in its land | 
and be one of its friends. || You can find 
tinkling brooks in its laugh. | You can 
hear chirping birds in its voice. | You can 
see answers to questions your heart has 
long sought, in its eye. | You can feel 
rose leaves in its touch. | You can catch 
sobbing waves in its cry. | You will own 
wealth beyond kings in its love. 1 1 Do you 
know It, | this lovely, wild thing, | this best 
Gift of God, | this Heart of a Child? |j 
Alice Love Esmond. ’13 


©afjna’s Heap 


\ GOOD half-mile from the Gap 
Resort, in what was once the very 
heart of Indian haunts, there stands a 
great stone house. Here for generations 
have lived the Anderson family. John 
Anderson owned the big hotel at the Gap 
Resort but the call of the wilds in his 
blood led him to live in the old ancestral 
home, farther north. His silent, wide- 
eyed daughter, Jean, had all her life 
lived out among the hills that rose on 


every side — a very child of Nature; 
and she justly claimed a kinship with it 
all, for in her veins a trace of Indian 
blood explained her straight black hair 
and rather irregular features. She loved 
this quiet life, but after her return from 
college she had sometimes been induced 
to join her father’s guests on some great 
mountain climb. Upon one such occasion 
she had met a western man. She was 
not unconscious of Ward Alston’s look of 


admiration the day her father had pre- 
sented her to them and said his daughter 
would guide the guests that day. Her 
Indian blood was telling, she had known, 
as she led them along the steep and fear- 
ful trails; but she had always found him 
near at hand when she would pause to 
wait for those less used to mountain life 
than she. What a strangely fascinating 
picture she had been that day as she stood 
among those hills, with them, and yet 
alone — her straight black hair drawn 
close against her brow, her great, wide, 
silent eyes, her cheeks aglow! But 
oddly enough they marked that she chose 
to wear high on her breast wild roses, 
gathered at the start, near the foot of the 
highest cliff, which later they rounded 
to the plains above. They had smiled 
at her fancy at first, but when they had 
reached the heights, they saw her move 
slowly toward the cliff, a strange light 
in her eyes, unfasten the roses at her 
neck, and standing on the very ledge 
itself, drop the flowers, one by one, into 
the abyss below; then turn away to lead 
them on across the almost level tract 
that lay beyond. Before they had left 
the cliff, young Alston had paused at her 
side to ask in a voice that showed he 
understood, “Will you tell me the legend 
of that great cliff some day?” She had 
studied his face before she made reply. 
“Perhaps, some day,” he remembered 
she had said. And since that time this 
man had spent his days along the river 
or among the hills with Jean. 

They had sat one night for hours 
beneath the stars, facing the giant hills 
to the northwest. On the right rippled 
the waters of the Delaware — shallow 
at this point, and lying far below the 
canal which ran close to a little low gar- 
den. The farthest bank of this canal rose 
to a tow-path, shaded by trees. The 
peculiar charm of the landscape held them 
in a strange silence. Marj, a younger 
sister, had joined the two and lay close 


by the side of Jean, her idol. From far- 
ther up the river a coal-barge could be 
heard approaching (for the night was 
very still) , and the slow, rhythmic tinkle 
of bells, worn by the mules by which the 
boats are drawn, lent their harmony to 
this woodland night symphony. Then 
the splash of their feet could be heard as 
they crossed an overflow just above the 
house, and the stumbling of a hoof 
against a loose stone rolled it off into the 
river many feet below. A plaintive 
accordeon helped to break the stillness 
with its monotonous melody, and when 
the boat had passed, four long, loud calls 
from a conch-shell plainly said to an old 
lock-tender farther down the level, “Open 
the lock,” and soon came back a strangely 
whistled answer acknowledging the signal. 
Then all was still again. “Jean, you have 
never told me the legend of yonder cliff. 
I’m in the mood for ghostly tales tonight. 
Tell me of this Dahna and her leap.” 
Jean hesitated, then a glance from 
Marjorie’s soft brown eyes invited her 
to share their favorite tale with this new 
friend of theirs and of the hills. “I never 
tell this legend to our guests for it means 
more to me than others can understand. 
You know the country round us here is 
rich in beauty, legend, and romance. 
The settlement before the coming of the 
whites was a favored spot with what was 
perhaps the best clan of all North Ameri- 
can Indians, the Lenni Lenape, which in 
our English tongue means ‘Men of Men,’ 
and commonly called the Delawares. 
With them our forefathers lived in peace 
and friendship for more than fifty years. 
Directly before you is Turtle Rock and 
beyond it on the farther side you see the 
cliff, long known as ‘Dahna’s Leap.’ 
Back from the brow of the cliff there 
stretches for miles, you know, a level 
tract of land and that was the settlement 
of the Turtle tribe. They were said to 
be very exclusive in the matter of inter- 
marriage. This had aroused some little 


warfare from time to time, when Cupid 
shot his arrows across the river and 
pierced the heart of some noble brave 
among the so-called Turkey tribe on the 
Jersey shore, and he would immediately 
set forth to revolutionize affairs and, 
in spite of custom, resolve to wed the 
maid. But no adventurer was ever 
known to win. Usually a brave in her 
own tribe would announce that he would 
defend the girl, and this defendant and 
the alien lover would settle the matter 
by some endurance test or hand-to-hand 
conflict. As I told you, Lenni Lenape 
means ‘Men of Men,’ and they seldom 
stooped to treachery in such matters. 
But there is always an exception, and so 
it came to pass, that one day a lusty 
brave from the Jersey shore sought the 
lands of the Turtle tribe. Greeting the 
old Chief, Ak-ke-long-qua, with a series 
of grunts, and laying at his feet gifts of 
gaudy robes and trinkets, he told his 
tale of love for the old chief’s daughter, 
and begged that the two tribes might 
join hands across the watery divide. 
Courteously but firmly he refused, and 
the young brave turned away. 

“Some nights later he came again; 
but this time stealthily and hid among 
the rocks and caves. Once he saw her 
as she passed quite close to where he hid 
but she seemed to wait for someone, so 
he only looked and longed for her the 
more. The next night she came again, 
and then he thought it must be when her 
sweetheart brave was out for game, she 
met him here above the cliff. The 
jealousy of his nation fired his veins as 
this thought filled his brain. He watched 
her close. She stood, her back to him, 
outlined against the sky. He caught her 
muttered words, ‘Ha-wa-wah comes when 
young moon touch our trees. Ha-wa-wah 
hunt man-game. Who is? Dahna wait. 
Ha-wa-wah tell her sometime, may-be-so.’ 
The skulking Indian started in surprise 
at the news the words conveyed to him. 


He knew he was the man and that the- 
time between then and moonrise was 
his only chance to capture her and fly. 
In an instant he had sprung to her side 
and held her firmly in his grasp. Turning 
her to him he told her who he was, — 
Chief Paunacussing’s son, and rich in 
fame and power; rebelled against her 
father’s cursed pride; then vowed his 
love and said that she should go across 
the river now, a captive bride. She heard 
his words, then wrestled in his grasp. 
Meanwhile the moon had risen to meet 
the pines, and over the brow of the near- 
est hill, Ha-wa-wah came from the 
North. He saw his Dahna at her wonted 
spot, but with her stood a man who held 
her close. With frenzied brain he crept 
on hand and foot to where he could 
plainly see what brother of his tribe his 
Dahna met in tryst. At that moment 
he saw her slip from out the strange 
man’s grasp, take but one step, then stag- 
ge 1 ? from a blow the man had struck. 
Ere she could fall the savage caught her 
in his arms, then southward bore her,, 
toward the river and his lands that lay 
beyond. 

“Then it was that Ha-wa-wah realized 
the awful truth, and with winged-foot 
set close chase. Hearing pursuit, the 
man turned to look, and seeing a single 
brave upon his tracks, he dropped the 
senseless girl and turned to defend him- 
self. Hand to hand they fought; now 
one and now the other held his man. 
But in their madness they had quite for- 
gotten their nearness to the cliff, when 
suddenly, seeing defeat, the alien con- 
ceived a treacherous move — fatal for 
both of them. They should die at the 
foot of the cliff. Although held upon 
his back, he swung himself around, 
clinging desperately the while to Ha-wa- 
wah. For an instant they paused on the 
rocky ledge as a twig on the verge of a 
mighty cataract, ere it plunges into the 
seething abyss below; then over they 


turned and fell five hundred feet down. 
Dahna came to herself just in time to 
see her lover plunge to his death below 
and held in the grasp of him of the tribe 
across the river. 

“Strangely alone she stood and mur- 
mured low, ‘Ha-wa-wah gone!’ Then 
comprehending it all, she wandered back 
to the camp — to a life that was empty 
and bare. When each day’s sun sank to 
rest, and twilight fell over all, she grew 
restless and sad, and when the stars 
came out and the moon rose over the 
pines, she would creep away to the cliff 
to commune with her grief alone. Then 
Winter laid his blanket upon the barren 
rocks, but each night, as before, she came 
to wait. Then Spring brought back new 
life to Earth, but her hopes still lay dead; 
and Summer found a once bright Indian 
maid a sad, strange being, living and yet 
dead. All memory had gone, save one 
fond thought, which burned but deeper 
now as Time dragged on, ‘When the 
moon touched the tips of the slender 
pines Ha-wa-wah would come again.’ 
Among the hills she’d wander day by day, 
yet never spoke except sometimes to 
caution with a finger on her lips, ‘Ha-wa- 
wah comes tonight,’ then dart away as 
though in haste to meet him ere he came. 
Her people held the strange-eyed girl 
in awe, and reverenced her as had she 
been a god. Then Autumn came. A 
year had crept away, and every night 
she kept her eager watch. And when he 
came not, she would walk along the ledge 
and call his name. Sometimes the chief 
would follow her unseen, then turn back 
to his wigwam in the wood and wait 
till weariness might bring her home. 
Each night she lingered longer on the 
ledge. He knew some night she never 
would return. At last it came. And her 
people understood that she had gone to 
meet him whom she loved. On the 
morrow, with the first faint rays of light, 
the old chief came. Far, far below him, 


in the deep ravine, a bit of scarlet cloth 
had caught his eye. Chief Ak-ke-long- 
qua stood and looked and turned, and as 
the sun lit up the eastern sky, he led his 
people westward to the plains. 

“And they say that sometimes when 
the young moon climbs the hill and silvers 
the tips of those slender pines above, and 
the night calls loud to her, she walks the 
ledge again and calls his name.” 

Jean’s voice had sunk to a whisper. 
Their eyes were on the cliff. Only the 
chirp of crickets and the ripple of the 
waters broke the silence of the night. 
“Has anyone really seen her, do you 
know?” Jean slowly moved her head 
to answer, “Yes.” A strange light filled 
her eyes. Just once before — that first 
day on the cliff — had he seen that glow 
light up her wondrous eyes. “Do you 
mean that you have seen this vision, 
Jean?” 

“Yes; it was just such a night as this. 
The moon did not rise till late, but the 
heavens were bright with stars, and the 
country round seemed to lie beneath a 
spell, even as now. I could not stay in- 
doors, so I stole outside, and here for 
hours I sat alone. Suddenly a sound, 
half moan, half sigh, fell sadly on the 
air. I started to my feet. Following the 
sound, my eyes wandered to yonder cliff, 
and there upon the very edge, a vision 
walked in white, and I heard it distinctly 
call, and the name was ‘Ha-wa-wah. r 
Some minutes passed and the legend 
came back to me; then I heard my own 
lips murmur low, ‘Dahna!’ The vision 
slowly lifted her head; listened as though 
she had heard her name, then started 
from the ledge. She paused, her face 
from me, turned back once more, and 
vanished over the cliff. 

“We never talk of this to anyone, for 
I believe she appears but to those 
who can understand, and tonight I 
feel—” 

“Look there!” But every eye had 


already seen a figure glide toward the 
cliff, and a vision in white walked slowly 
along the ledge, so close it hovered above 
the awful brink, and the name “Ha-wa- 
wah” fell upon the air. It was Marjorie 
who answered to the call. Clasping her 
little hands, she softly cried, “Dahna! 
Dahna, dear!” The vision turned her 
head as though she heard the cry, then 


slowly moved away as if to seek her 
one-time camp beyond. Faltering in 
her steps she turned once more to the 
ledge. She paused, then leaped far out 
and vanished into space. 

Firmly Alston’s hand closed over Jean’s 
and all he whispered was, “I understand.” 

Martha Lela Carey, ’13. 


£>n tfjc (gentle girt of lulling ®me 


Among all the Fine Arts, there is none 
more widely patronized than the gentle 
Art of killing Time. The man of common 
clay may excel in it as easily as the man 
of genius. Although the quantity may 
vary greatly, each man must work upon 
the same kind of material; for 

“Our todays and yesterdays 
Give the hours that we must kill.” 

Naturally, however, our instruments 
of torture often vary in degrees of refine- 
ment even as a violin of Cremona varies 
from the tom-tom of the Indian. But 
now, having tried all the barbarous and 
most of the refined ways of achieving 
perfection in this gentle Art, I have at 
last found one that seems most satis- 
factory. I refer to that mode of Time 
electrocution known as Rehearsing. 

There are three portions of the day in 
which it is possible to use this mode of 
attacking the “Bird of Time,” as Omar 
calls it, — the hour between 8.00 and 9.00 
a.m.; the hour between 12.30 and 1.15 
p.m. ; and the hours between 2.00 and 
4.30 p.m. 

Let us now set forth the killing of the 
first and most elusive of these hours. 
You awaken at 7.45, hastily dress, and 
realizing that you will have no Time to 
kill if you stop for breakfast, content 
yourself with the fragrant odors from your 
landlady’s kitchen. You hasten down 
the street, enter the school door and find 
the clock almost ready to clap its hands 
at 9.00 o’clock. Too late, alas! for by 
the moment you have caught your breath, 
a girl advances from the elevator and 
informs you that Time has just expired 
without your presence. 

But courage! The 12.30 hour is one 
in which the true sportsman most de- 


lights to seek his game. The hunters 
come by twos and threes, they glance 
into the rehearsal room but as quickly 
retreat. You pace up and down, open 
your book, close it, look out the window, 
pace up and down again, glance at the 
door. You look at your watch and find 
you have killed only five minutes. Then 
two other people enter and Time becomes 
still more difficult to attack. You eat 
your chocolate and your peanuts and 
glance at your watch again. Only five 
more minutes have gone. Thus the 
process keeps up. You assail Time 
harder and harder — now with a bit of 
gossip, now with a dance or two. At 
last, when you have about given up hope, 
the bell rings and you know that the last 
moment has finally succumbed. 

But the hours between 2.00 and 4.30 
are the ones when Time puts up the hard- 
est battle. You grow impatient, you fret, 
you storm, you fume. When you find 
violence has not prevailed you try other 
tactics. “Serene you fold your hands and 
wait.” But you cannot get away from 
Time’s batteries. The tick-tick-tick of 
the moments tortures you as exquisitely 
as if drops of water were falling every 
second on your unprotected head. At 
last you find other assassins willing to 
fight with you. But even with your 
united efforts you progress slowly. Just 
when you are almost desperate enough 
to bury yourself in the oblivion of study, 
a voice rings out, “Well, girls, we must 
hurry off to gym. Good-bye.” The 
hands of your watch are stretching out 
as if in surrender. Time’s death-knell 
has been started and you are free once 
more — free to begin with a different 
mode of attack. 

Dorothy Elderdice, T3 


[ 76 ] 



jpoetrp 

“life” 

Some look upon life in a very funny way, 

Like the tapestry weavers as of old. 

They weave behind the beauty of the picture all the 
day, 

And do not see the right side, it is told. 

To them it’s only tangled ends before their vision, 
The rough unfinished threads of different lengths. 
The knots are hard and twisted and of many differ- 
ent hues; 

To untie them it requires all their strength. 

But why not adjust the viewpoint of it all. 

And look upon the right side of the screen — 

Oh, what grandeur and what beauty doth now on us 
befall, 

In those carefully woven colors, gold and green. 

Thus it is with life, I fear, we do not see both sides, 
And become too pessimistic in our view. 

So don’t with only one viewpoint believe you’re 
satisfied, 

But change and join the optimistic few. 


So Life is what you make it, you may like or you 
may hate it; 

You may fume and you may fret and you may 
stew. 

No one ever shares your trouble. It is yours, so do 
not grumble. 

It’s a hard world if you think so, but, don’t you! 

Elizabeth L. Beattie, ’13. 


Pe Strong 

Be strong to bear, O heart of mine, 
Faint not when sorrow comes. 

The summits of these hills of earth 
Touch the blue skies of home. 

So many burdened ones are there, 

Close journeying by thy side; 

Assist, encourage, comfort them— 
Thine own deep sorrow hide. 

What tho’ thy sorrow may seem great, 
Thy strength is known to God, 

And pathways steep and rugged lead 
To Pastures green and broad. 



[ 77 ] 


Be strong to love, O heart of mine, 

Live not for self alone; 

But find in blessing other lives 
Completeness for thine own. 

Seek every hungering heart to cheer, 

Each saddened heart to feed; 

And when stern justice stands aloof, 

In pity draw thou near. 

Kind, loving words and helping hands 
Have won more souls to Heaven 

Than all the dogmas and the creeds, 

By priests and sages given. 

Be strong to hope, O heart of mine, 

Look not on life’s dark side, 

For just beyond those gloomy hours 
Rich, radiant days abide. 

Let hope, like summer rainbows bright, 
Scatter thy falling tears; 

And let God’s precious promises 
Dispel thy anxious fears; 

For every grief, a gladness comes; 

For every toil, a rest. 

So hope, so love, so patient bear, 

God doeth all things best. 

Evelyn Rees Norcross. 


<2£ur Wesson 

Arranged for the Harmonizing Exercises 

King Ufred looked on his dominion 
Of mountains, hills and valleys low, 

As being the aim of all his being, 

The harvest which his life had sown. 

His little daughter saw the small things, 

Which in his kingdom grew — 

The grass, the flowers, the trees, the bees, 

To her were friends most true. 

Once, wandering out through Nature’s garden, 
An enchantment held her bound. 

Her father called out all his legions, 

To seek where’er she might be found. 

To every height and crest they traveled, 

Now through brake and through thick fen, 

To an opening on some high mountain, 

Or to some deep and rocky glen. 

King Ufred bowed in grief and suppliance, 

Did not think that near at hand, 

Just by looking at the small things, 

Was the treasure of the land. 




[ 78 ] 



But Magi obeyed his summons, 
Hobbled by the parkway stream, 

Looked beneath the willow branches, 
Parted back the leafy screen. 

There, within the flickering shadow, 
Where the rippling waters run, 

Magi found the little Princess 
Weaving thread by spiders spun. 

The king listened for the bugle. 

No welcoming refrain 

Was heard by king or courtier, 

In all of that domain. 

No thought ever befell him 

That a greater power was nigh ; 

King Ufred had no comfort, 

He could only sit and sigh. 

Magi listened to her singing, 

Then replaced the leafy branch. 

Stealthily he scampered from her, 
Casting backward just one glance. 

Then he heralded all his chieftains, 
Called them to him, one by one; 

Gave to each a kingly warning, 
Offered prize to him who won. 

The dwarf Magi loved the princess, 
He would give his life for her. 

He, too, bowed in grief and sorrow, 
Sat alone, outside the whirl. 


But he called forth all the bluebirds, 

All the butterflies around. 

And the bees buzzed from the dogwood, 
That the princess they had found. 

The kindgom’s legions traveled 
Many miles and miles away; 
Searching at the farthest border, 

All in vain, day after day. 


By the ledges steep and stony, 

By the cliff and thorny dell, 

By the castle, and the highway — 
No reward to them befell. 


In his heart he now is thanking 
The good Magi up on high, 

Who is ever, always watching 
With His kind and gracious eye. 

Let Dwarf Magi teach a lesson 
To us, who look for worldly gain: 

That truth, and love, and blessing, 

Even that much sought-for fame, 

Are lying all about us, 

In the things we oft disdain. 

Belle McMichael, T4. 


[ 79 ] 



& QTale 


t 



I entered school, a Freshman shy, 

And scarcely dared to raise my eye 
To gaze at Junior girls so smart, 

Who thought that they must play the part 
Of elder sisters to “The Babe,” 

Who seemed to them to be afraid 
Of teachers thin, and teachers tall, 

And even those who were quite small. 

And when I heard the stately tread 
Of Seniors, grand, I nigh fell dead. 

And yet they were not half so grand 
As those P. G.’s, who did command 
The little Freshies in a class 
On every Monday morn, alas! 

But oh, how did I e’er survive 
Those first few months? Great sakes alive! 
My knees did shake, my hands did tremble 
When to the class we did assemble, 

And had to rise and give a part 
Of something that I’d learned by heart. 
Alas, ’tis true! Sometimes I wept 
When on the floor too long was kept, 

And each, Fm sure felt like a dunce; 

Yes, indeed, more times than once, 

When in a certain class we’d be, 

Of Vocal Tech., and oh, dear me! 

Analysis was worse than this, 

But ne’er a class we’d dare to miss! 

Well, those old days have all passed by, 
And better days have now drawn nigh. 

No more we tremble and look pale 
When we arise to read a tale 
In Rhetoric, or some such place, 

About the well-known human race. 

I’ll tell to you the reason why — 

We are no longer children shy. 

It is because we’re Juniors bold 


And want to do whate’er we’re told. 

You’d not believe it if I said 

That some in Pantomime played dead, 

And many other Stunts we’ve had 
That truly made our teachers glad. 

But soon we’ll be the Seniors, grand, 

With hosts of friends on every hand, 

And other little Freshmen shy 
Will gaze on us with envious eye. 

Docia Dodd. 


[Written for Rhetoric Class, 1912.] 




The little dimple in Billy’s cheek 
Is all my Ethics, all my Technique. 

All the Expression that I know 
Are his of joy, or his of woe. 

All that I can prove in Debate 
Is “without him my world is desolate.” 

All that I want of Dramatic Art 
Is to teach me how to win his heart. 

No Normal Class have I but such 
As teaches me to love him much. 

In School Management , my only aim 
Is to manage Billy to change my name. 

H. B., ’13 


‘ ' 5 

I I 

e i 


> l sj 





[801 



&noto §iou ? 

Know you what it is to starve — to starve 

For love and truth and inspiration that 

Bursts out of friendship? Then it is you know 

That aching void, that sense^of loneliness 

And despair that shuts me in from what I fain 

Would grasp and hold as mine; Not love such as 

A man for woman bears, not even that 

Which woman nourishes for man; but love 

Of friend — a friend ’twixt whom and me there is 

A brotherhood that links two souls as God 

Would have them linked. Not love, alone, in which 

The one is willing to give all or even 

Die for him, the other; but rather live 

For him and make him live as God would have 

Him live; and let that other in his turn, 

Bring out the best that has been given the one, 

That they might live and love as He has taught. 

Martha Lela Carey, ’13. 




J^tneteenJfourteen Jlanquet 

Stately halls of Riverbank, 

Where the toasts of cheer we drank 
To the friends anear, and those so far away, 

Where the joyous life of youth 
And the loyal heart of truth, 

In the bonds of class and friendship held their sway. 


Hear the merry voice of song, 

With its echo sweet and long; 

How it rings forevermore in memory’s vale; 

How it sweeps all fields of joy, 

Courage new, without alloy, 

As the fresh’ning breath of springtime’s sunny gale. 


Oh, the gracious ripening mien 
Of a future yet unseen; 

How it dawns upon our vision, half divine. 
Oh, the promise of the hour, 

Half revealed in latent power, 

Till the echoing walls become a sacred shrine. 


To the golden morn of life, 

Ere we know the noonday strife, 

Which with majesty and fortitude we’ll bear; 
For the heritage divine, 

Round the brow of youth will twine, 

If the utmost crown of living we would wear. 

Wm. G. Ward. 


Unlucky Thirteen? 

We’re sure she can’t mean 

To cause so much worry of things foreseen. 

Though she may be odd, 

We don’t need to nod, 

And talk very vaguely of “under the sod.” 

And is there a number 

That folks will not cumber 

With some sort or other of boo-goo-boo lumber? 

If we look for the best 

In this year, like the rest, 

Thirteen will surely answer the test. 

Helen P. Ramsey, ’15. 



[81] 


lectures anti Eecttals 


Jfacultp Recitals 

T HE Faculty Recitals were of a very high 
standard this year and rank among the 
finest ever given at Emerson. After 
one of these delightful programmes, a young 
lady was heard to remark, “I do not know 
whether to be discouraged or encouraged by 
what I have heard this evening, but I have quite 
made up my mind on one point — and that is, 
from this time on, I am going to work.” 

Many students who have become really worth 
while, date their first start from a faculty recital. 
The following programmes were given: 
“Herod,” President Southwick. 

“Faust,” Mrs. Southwick. 

“Henry IV,” Mr. Tripp. 

“Electra,” Evalyn Thomas. 

“The Servant in the House,” Mrs. Whitney. 

Nella Kingsbury, T3. 


Jflormng lectures 

Monologue 

Time — Two days after Commencement. 

Place — A Pullman-coach. 

Persons — Mr. Dickson and Mr. Putnam. 

Oh, hello, Putnam! Didn’t know you were 
going to be on this train. Mighty glad to see 
you; don’t like traveling alone, you know. Sit 
down with you? Sure! You didn’t expect me 
to go off and sit by myself, did you? Oh, say, 
wasn’t the Commencement simply great? You 
never saw a better? Neither did I. Doesn’t it 
make you feel faint to think that it is all over? 
Honestly, Putnam, I’ve been thinking about 
the lecturers we had last year at Emerson. 
Weren’t they splendid though? I wish now I 
had taken notes, for I can’t remember how they 
came. You remember some of them? Mrs. 
Southwick was the first? Say, doesn’t she make a 
person want to do something worth while? I’d 
give a lot to know as much as she does. What 
did you say? Knows how to say things, too? 
You' bet she does! Didn’t Homer B. Sprague 
lecture next on one of Shakespeare’s women? 
Oh, yes, that’s it, “Shakespeare’s Greatest 
Character, A Woman.” How well you do re- 
member. That man was certainly steeped in 
Shakespeare. Seemed to almost come out of his 
fingertips. Did you hear Leon H. Vincent. ? I 
wouldn’t have missed his course of lectures for 
anything. You heard only three of them? 
Couldn’t go to the first one? Well, you missed 
it. He lectured on “Washington Irving’s Early 
Works.” No, the next one was “William Make- 
peace Thackeray.” I never knew Thackeray 
was such an interesting man before. You liked 


the lecture on “Charles Dickens” best? Yes, 
the comparison of those two men was very 
finely portrayed. I don’t know, I believe I 
liked “George Eliot” best, as I have always liked 
her books so much. Yes, I agree with you that 
“Kings of the Pulpit in Colonial Days” was 
hard to beat. When it comes right down to the 
point, it is pretty hard to make a choice. Let’s 
see, who came next? Oh, I know — Mr. A. E. 
Winship. He spoke so well on “Education.” 
No, you are thinking of Dr. Frederick A. Stanley 
who spoke on “The Awakening In China.” I 
never did care about China until I heard him 
lecture, but now I feel greatly interested in her 
development. Didn’t it seem just like a story 
when the Rev. Willard A. Scott gave “The 
Romance of an Old Fashioned Education”? 
What’s that? You remember what he said about 
the minister, “Invisible on week days and in- 
comprehensible on Sunday?” Guess he didn’t 
know Mr. Stockdale or he wouldn’t have said 
that. Couldn’t you just see the church, the 
school, and the blacksmith shop? Dr. Alonzo A. 
Butterfield? Yes, he was a former teacher at 
Emerson College. I don’t think he had any 
special subject but just gave a word of greeting 
to the students. He told about some of the 
great Emersonian principals. Wasn’t there a 
woman who talked on “The Peace Movement”? 
Oh, yes, Mrs. Joseph Duryea. She surely knew 
what she was talking about. I sat spellbound 
for fear I would lose a word. Peace ought to 
come with such a woman working for it. Edward 
Howard Griggs? Of course, I hadn’t forgotten 
him. I might just as well forget one of the teach- 
ers, for it seems just as if he belonged to us. He 
lectured on “Giordano Bruno.” Yes, wasn’t 
that interesting about the influence he probably 
had on Shakespeare’s life? You never thought 
about “Hamlet” being a direct outcome of the 
friendship? Neither did I. I believe I’ll look 
into that this vacation. No, I didn’t hear 
William Lines Hubbard and I have kicked myself 
ever since. What was his subject? “Modern 
Grand Opera”? Illustrated by his giving the 
“Secret of Suzanne” to music? That must have 
been splendid. Everybody said it was the best 
thing they had ever heard. And to think that 
I missed it! You heard Mr. Kenney say that 
he would walk a hundred miles and wheel his 
wife and little boy in a wheelbarrow to hear him 
again? Well, then, it was good. Mr. Foxton 
Ferguson was the last, I believe. I have heard 
him three times now, but the last one on “Street 
Balladry” certainly “took the cake.” I could 
listen to him all day. What, do you get off here? 
Am sorry, for we had just begun our visit. So 
long! Be good to yourself. 

Docia Dodd, ’13. 



[ 82 ] 


Junior l^eefe 


Tuesday Morning. — March in Chapel. Juniors in white, preceded by standard 
bearers, carrying an archway decorated with jonquils in form of class numerals. 
March prettily executed. In and out and ’round about, singing all the while. Then, 
on the stage, behind the curtain. Raised. Ah! Artistic grouping! Heads every- 
where, no feet to be seen. And such cheers! And then the song! Dee — lightful!! 

Wednesday Evening — This was the P. G. dance. The Juniors had a lovely time. 
So did the four P. G.’s. The rest didn’t go — they never do. 


Thursday Evening. — Junior Promenade. Oh! What a success! And the chap- 
erons! How nice Mrs. Willard and Miss Sleight looked! The Copley Plaza is the 
nicest place for a dance! And we all behaved so well! Everyone all “togged up,” too. 
And the chairman! Wasn’t she a “brick”? Even though her gown was delayed in 
Ohio, by the flood. And we didn’t even know it ! 

Friday Morning. — Oh! Those Co-eds. of ours! It took nerve to go across the 
platform, with the lovely little wreaths decorating their high-brows, in that manner. 
They are really quite musical, too. And all of them were there! That morning was 
certainly inspiring! It might teach a few of us girls a lesson. Again! Three cheers 
for “Co-eds.” 


Friday Evening. — The Banquet at Riverbank Court for the Juniors. Isn’t Dr. 
Ward just the best toastmaster ever? Wasn’t it almost as interesting as his classes, 
though? And everybody had such a good time. 


Written at &toerbanfe Court 


The Poet, we fear, 

Will not be here. 

For this, we all will shed a tear. 
Now, if she come, 

This will be bum. 

If she does not, 

Why, on the spot, 

I here have writ, 

With lots of grit, 

A line or two 
To read to you. 


You may not see 
This is to be 
A bit of Junior poetry; 
But with your “specs” 
You may detect, 

By keeping time, 

A sort of rhyme. 

But we must have 
Something to follow, 

A mental concept, 

Or ’twill sound hollow. 


This should have been said at the beginning, 
But not when at the seventh inning. 

My subject matter as you may guess,, 

Is just to give vent to my foolishness. 

In this I feel I am not alone, 

For in it all here are much at home. 

So in reality you may see 
This is some real class poetry. 

Hi s|e + sje j)c % 

If “Scribner” had scribbled, 

Though ever so scant, 


I should not have needed 
So badly “Tarrant.” 

Or if I had had a tiny “Beraud” (bureau) 
For my fancy to ride on, an hour “Igo,” 

I, with faithful “McDonough” 

And fair-haired muse, 

The dainty “Owen,” 

Would see my imagination goin’, 

Until we should have for certes 

Written so “Smart” ’twould rival “Curtis.” 

Or over “Stiles” to green meadows, 

Where the lovely “Lyndon” flows. 


Do not think me now “New-bold,” 

For “Relyea” this tale must be told. 

Or had the blue-eyed “Stevenson” 

Up and sung an even-song, 

With honoured president, “Mil Johnson,” 

The success of this would have been bouncing. 
There’s “Thornton” and “Harris” and “Bennett” 
and “Bailey,” 

Whom for so long we have met daily; 

Each an inspiration has proved, 

To write these lines of undying love. 

Nor do we forget the two little twins, 

“Wolstad” and “Strickland,” who have ever been 
Smiling faces and cheer to the heart. 

“Tobin” and “Cochran” have played their part. 
You all know our tiny “Sparrell,” 

Who was never mistaken for a barrel. 

I know this is written pretty quick, 

But we had to have a rhyme for “Riddick,” 
“Sullivan,” “Demming,” “Jones,” and “Burton,” 
All are responsible for this sudden spurt in 
Mental wanderings and brainy fits, 

Which run to “Demmings” and “Jessie Smith.” 
The songs which you sing reach toward the 
“West,” 


Well through the years remain the best. 
Although we had no “Mensinger,” 

We probably these men aver 
For the “Ward” of this old “Town,” 

With us at this repast sat down. 

Then we have a “Timmerman” 

Who was timid since time began. 

Then you have heard of Captain “Jones” 

With “Hazel” eyes and sturdy bones. 

That “Dietrick” is dainty, we don’t deny: 

But if I don’t stop, you all will espy. 

Now, St. Michael, bless this bit of lines, 

Or we’ll forever more repine. 

Having heeded the “Belle” for dinner, 

The scales will tell we are not grown thinner. 
Now me and my little poem must quit, 

Having played our part at this banquet. 

Add cream and wafers and salads and meat — 
This is an affair ’twill be hard to beat. 

And with the delight of this choice of dishes, 

To dearest classmates, all best wishes. 

When next we’re wanting some high-class sport, 
We’ll all return to Riverbank Court. 

Elsie Gordon, ’ 14 . 


Saturday Morning . — We simply cannot get ahead of those Juniors. They are 
interesting! And the way they know the Faculty! Oh, yes, the students, too! The 
little take-off was splendidly managed and immensely enjoyed by everyone — even 
those who suffered. We just couldn’t help it! The cheers from everybody for every- 
body ended the week. 

Here is the poem that was read by a member, to commemorate this eventful 
week and to bring to our already agreeably overloaded notice, some of the virtues 
of the “Class One Nine One Four.” 


When you want a stunt done rightly, 
When you want a grand march sightly, 
When you want a dance so sprightly, 
Come to the Class one nine one four. 

We’re Black’s sonneteering Juniors, 
We’re Puffer’s gestureering Juniors, 
Hicks’s pantomimic Juniors, 

This Class one nine one four. 

Do you know, this dear old College 
Offers us a store of knowledge. 

This our critic must acknowledge, 

When he knows our Class “one-four.” 

Oh, Tripp tells us we are dummies 
In Forensics. Such a bore! 

But in every other subject 

We are winners, “one” and “four.” 


But here’s another story, 

For Prexy says in Oratory 
That we’re his pride and glory — 

This Class one nine one four. 

Dr. Ward, in language clever, 

Is trying, with keen endeavor, 

From our babyhood to sever 
This Class one nine one four. 

When Time, in grand demeanor, 

Has ushered in one year more, 

We will then be full-fledged Seniors — 
The Class one nine one four. 

The faculty, in their regime, 

Say such a class they’ve seldom seen. 
Who? Why, of course, they mean 
Our Class one nine one four. 

Belle McMichael. 
Arranged for Junior Week. 



Editor-in-Chief, John James Roy 
Assistant Editor, Julie Gore Owens 
Business Manager, Albert F. Smith 
Associate Editors 

Lillian Hartigan, ’12; Lillian Clark, ’13; Isabel Tobin, C4; Marion Vincent, To 


The Emerson College Magazine is issued by the Magazine Association. Its 
general purpose is to raise the standard of instruction in oratory throughout the 
country by bringing it into line with the most approved pedagogical methods. It 
also aims to elevate the literary character of the reading-platform, so that recitals 
shall become recognized as a vital interpretation of our best English and American 
authors. It publishes contributions from teachers, authors, graduates and friends of 
the institution; criticisms of standard and current literature, especially that suitable 
for platform work; and news of interest in and about the College. Seven numbers 
are issued during each scholastic year. 


Cmerson College Jfflagajtne 


MAGAZINE BOARD 


[ 85 ] 



Dramatic Art is a high mountain to climb, a heaven-scaling crag. Each day the 
classes have steadily climbed the rocky path, and a few have caught a faint glimpse 
of the summit in the distance. The tumbles have been many and the cuts sharp, 
but each time they have risen with a spirit more determined to win the goal. 

N. K., T3. 


3 Jfeto Jfonti ^collections: of 1913 
dramatic Urt Class: 


T^REAMILY I lay aside my book, 
and gaze into the embers, glowing 
red upon the grate; and Fancy with 
swift wings soon bears me back to dear 
old E. C. O., pausing just inside the great 
folding doors where our most dreaded, 
yet best loved, class was held. Ah, me, 
those days! 

Now, Fancy takes me quickly up the 
narrow stairways and leaves me in a 
little, well known room. Oh, Little 
Dressing Room, what scenes could your 
four bare walls reveal had they the power 
of speech ! The awful scrambles that took 
place. Methinks again I hear a wail of 
disappointment from some frantic actress 
as she gazes on her gown. Oh, Costume 
Mistress! mind not the wrath descending 
on thy head! Clatter! Bang! “What’s 
that,” I ask myself, and then remember 


that below, upon the stage, a desperate 
Property Mistress is only bringing order 
out of “conglomerated chaos.” 

Again, I seem to hear a rush of feet, a 
swish of skirts, and see a cross, wild, 
worried face that disappears, then re- 
appears, before me in frantic haste. 
Yes! Yes! The Captain! The accents 
of that voice I know too well — shrill, 
sharp and penetrating, ordering, direct- 
ing, controlling. An hour hence what 
different modulations creep into that 
same high-pitched voice. Turmoil, now, 
doth reign supreme — wigs, powder boxes, 
flying hair pins, a buckle lost, a shoe that 
won’t go on, a satin garment much too 
big for wearer, a lunch that’s gobbled on 
the run. In haste I flee to scenes more 
tranquil, where nervous youths and 
maidens are transformed — some turned 


[ 86 ] 



to raving beauties; some, old men; 
others, sports, both red of face and hair; 
and some fine gentlemen of stylish mien. 

There’s a last daub of powder, 

A last touch of paint, 

A wild scramble stageward, 

Oh, so scared and so faint. 

One last palpitating moment, the cur- 
tain is ascending roofward with a squeak, 
a jerk, and a jolt. 

I hear the audience awaiting the 
entrance, breathlessly, ready to burst 
into sympathetic tears or hearty laughter; 
or, horror of horrors! to sit cold and 
unresponsive and critical. 

The embers burn lower and lower in 
the grate and as I watch them die out, 
one by one, a panorama of the plays we 
were in passes before me. “Pygmalion 
and Galatea” appear and I see the beau- 
tiful statue come to life at Pygmalion’s 
call. Then the burning jealousy of fair 
Cynisca, after whose features the statue 
has been so lovingly wrought, and her 
revenge in causing Pygmalion to become 
blind; and at the last the reunion of 
husband and wife by Galatea’s return 
to her pedestal. 

This picture flickers out and “Ingomar” 
stands before me, bold, ferocious bar- 
barian that he is, but his ferocity gradu- 
ally slips away, and he is now the brave 
and daring man whose heart is warmed 
with the purity of a woman’s love. Here 
my thoughts trail off— 

With a start, I become conscious that 
“Gringoire” is standing haughty, defiant 
before the cunning and crafty King 
Louis, awaiting his death sentence. My 
heart warms again toward Gringoire as 
it did when first I beheld him. 

There is a dropping of embers and a 
little tongue of flame leaps up, and I see 
in its midst “David Garrick,” brilliant, 
witty, polished, sweeping all before him 
by the rush of his own personality. I fol- 
low him from scene to scene and I am 
just on the point of seeing him win his 
beloved Ada, when the flame grows 
brighter. 

“Nance Oldfield” now fairly leaps 
before me. What a woman she is! 
Laughter again shakes me as I see her 
waving her red bedroom-slippered foot 
in mid air, and then, as if resentful of my 
mirth, she vanishes away with the smoke. 

But no time is left to mourn the loss 
of this fair vision, for another scene now 


holds me spellbound, and I again realize 
how clever a woman can be when “She 
Stoops to Conquer.” So real are the 
characters, I stretch out my hand to see 
if they live. Ah, me! the spell is broken, 
and only little shoots of flame remain. 

Long I gaze, wondering what Fancy 
will show me next ; but j ust as I am about 
to turn away in despair, I see Sir Peter 
in powdered wig and long red coat, 
gazing in surprised horror at Lady 
Teazle, pretty, proud, defiant. But 
what need is there to describe “The 
School for Scandal” as I saw it in the 
flames? 

Nor can I paint the memory of “In 
the Shadow of the Glen,” for you, dear 
Class of 1913, have probably lived it 
o’er and o’er again. 

“In Honor Bound,” the last of all our 
triumphs seems but the vision of a 
yesterday. 

Here, the curtain descending, breaks 
my revery — one end hangs for a full 
minute caught in mid air, then jolting, 
jerking, creaking, reaches its goal. 

Applause ! Applause ! ! And then again 
APPLAUSE!!! Until the hearts of 
happy, agitated actors are aglow. Then 
breathlessly, all await the verdict, “Well 
done,” that meant far more than glowing 
words of praise — but, when, with looks 
both stern and, shall I say, sarcastic, we 
heard, “That’s all,” our hearts went 
down like lead. But, Class, you know we 
well deserved it. 

****** 


I 

Let’s give three cheers for Mr. Tripp, 

Three cheers before we’ve parted, 

For though sometimes we made a slip, 

He got the Class well started 
Upon the path that leads to fame — 

Though mighty “punk” our by-play, 
We’ll travel onward just the same, 

Until we reach the highway. 

II 

He’s fair and square, though hard to please; 

And we all loved his classes. 

And when he gave a word of praise 
’Twas known by lads and lasses 
That what they did had been worth while. 
Just here, I cannot help but smile, 

It needs no words but (dashes.) 

But we deserved it all, I we’en, 

For we, I fear, were very green. 

Docia Dodd, T3. 


[ 87 ] 


“pantomime” 


“His clear and eloquent blood so distinctly 
wrought 

That one might almost say his body thought.” 

\^7ITH this motto written across her 
prow, the good ship Pantomime 
set off on her voyage of Exploration and 
Accomplishment last September. Her 
Captain, a very able person, though she 
seemed so small for so large a ship, was 
no other than our Mrs. Hicks. The crew 
was made up of the Juniors of Emerson 
College. There were very few passengers, 
and these changed as the ship drew into 
port every Friday and Saturday. 

The Pantomime sailed into many 
different channels and seas, and touched 
at various islands and seaport towns. 
In the beginning of her trip she spent 
some time cruising among the islands 
known as “The Groups” and “The 
Individuals.” 

As the ship sailed farther and farther 
away, she grew more venturesome, and 
before Christmas had crept down upon 
her, she found herself anchored for a 
couple of months’ stay in the scenic 
harbors of “The Taming of the Shrew.” 

Throughout the whole voyage Captain 
Hicks weekly drilled her subordinates in 
the art of bodily expression. “Kid-joy” 
was a special drill which she never failed 
to put them through. In order to be 
prepared for enemies, the Captain saw 
to it that the sailors were all able to 
“Advance in Attack” and to “Retreat.” 


Very often the entire crew would be 
seen standing about the decks in puzzled 
attitudes, as though vainly endeavoring 
to solve some difficult problems. Flashes 
of intelligence would rapidly cross their 
faces as they thought they saw an answer 
to their troubles. These would be fol- 
lowed by looks of disappointment as they 
discovered their line of thought was 
wrong. But a smile of victory always 
crowned their efforts, for invariably an 
easy solution was discovered before they 
thought very long. 

Before it was time to commence her 
homeward voyage, Pantomime became 
very courageous, and dared to sail 
straight for the Continents of “Original- 
ity.” She worked her way in and out 
among the icebergs and rocks of “Des- 
peration” and “Disappointment,” and 
floated bravely up to the wharf of 
“Presentation.” 

After anchoring there for some time, 
she turned about and headed joyously 
for home. Pantomime is now nearing the 
“Straits of Examination.” Our good 
wishes are with her, and we hope the 
winds of “Success” will carry her safely 
through them into the home harbor. 

It is not to be questioned that the 
Pantomime crew accomplished things, 
for who could help it under the excellent 
leadership of such a person as Captain 
Hicks! 

Jean E. West, ’14. 



[881 


-pantomime 

O NE would have thought at the be- 
ginning of our Pantomime Course, 
that the nature we imitated was most 
curiously made. It took only a little 
practice for us to learn that the fault 
was in our lack of co-ordination. 

Our first problem was to shake off the 
shackles of dignity and grown-upishness 
and turn our minds backward to child- 
hood, when complete abandonment took 
possession of the body. An observer 
would have said, by our imitation of 
“kid joy,” that most of us were many 
miles down the line of life from the sta- 
tion of youth. 

That this had been accomplished, was 
demonstrated in “The Revelry” scene 
from “Twelfth Night,” and “The Coun- 
try House” scene from “Taming of the 
Shrew.” The drinkers in “Twelfth 
Night” showed great imagination and 
complete abandonment. It needed no 
ghost from the grave to tell us that the 
servants of Pet.ruchio displayed a marked 
improvement in detail characterization. 
The study of affection was clearly re- 
vealed in the “Sheep Shearing” scene 
from “Winter’s Tale,” while repulsion 
and will was most marked in the “Play 
Scene” of Hamlet. 

We owe much to Pantomime for break- 
ing open the shell and unveiling to each, 
another self. B. McM., T4. 

CJje ^ratiuate -piap 

T HE mid-winter Post-Graduate Play 
has proved to be one of the great- 
est dramatic events of the school year. 
In accordance with the custom of the last 
few years, the play presented was one of 
the best of old English comedies. Chap- 
man’s “All Fools” certainly demands a 
high order of work to reveal all its 
brilliancy and subtlety. But, giving all 
due credit to Mr. Tripp for his direction 
and to the individual members of the 
cast, the play as presented fulfilled 
every demand, displaying finished artistic 
wor k- D. E., ’13. 

“m )t Stunts” 

Seniors 

f\N the morning of November twenty- 
first, nineteen hundred twelve, the 
student-body and friends of Emerson 


College of Oratory were delighted by the 
lifting of the veil of the future by Evelyn 
Rees Norcross, in the original fantasy, 
“The Emersonian White House.” 

The audience was allowed for a brief 
space to gaze enthusiastically upon 
Emersonian Women as perfected con- 
gressional members and executive officers, 
steering the “Ship of State” with ease 
and poise, on a voyage of clear sailing; 
the municipal oil having been poured 
upon the waves of national problems by 
woman’s hand, until calm had prevailed 
in the political sea. 

Words of sparkling wit, rippling humor, 
and grave wisdom fell from the lips of 
those Emerson-trained “Leaders of the 
Nation.” 

It was a most clever, worthy, and 
entertaining “Stunt,” and we bestow a 
laurel wreath upon the Senior Class of 

1913. 

Juniors 

HP HE student-body and friends of 
Emerson College of Oratory, on 
December seventh, nineteen hundred 
twelve, were led by the Junior Class 
back into the mythology of the Greeks. 
They followed eagerly the wanderings 
of “Endymion.” 

The eye was charmed by the grace of 
motion, the ear was pleased by the 
rhythm of the lines and the imagination 
was stimulated by the old Greek ideas, 
until all felt that they had been trans- 
ported to those olden days. 

It was a very artistic and pleasing 
“Stunt.” We pay homage to the high 
standard of work reached by the Class of 

1914. 

Freshmen 

r T''HE student-body and friends of 
Emerson College of Oratory, on 
December nineteenth, nineteen hundred 
twelve, were more than pleased with the 
episodes which Marion F. Vincent de- 
picted in her original sketch, “When 
Pat Came Home.” 

The characters moved and spoke with 
reality, the songs and dances brightened 
and cheered, while the spirit of the whole 
carried the audience with enthusiasm 
to the end. 

The swing, the freedom, the clever 
work, and the achievement reflects great 
credit upon the Class of 1915. 

H. B. C., ’12. 


[ 89 ] 



PHI MU GAMMA PLAY 


Commencement program 


Baccalaureate Sermon, Rev. Allen A. Stockdale 


Debate 


Miss Amelia Green 
Miss Josephine Penick 


Miss Helen Leavitt 

Miss Mary Shambach 


Physical Culture and Greek Dance 


Miss Brackett 

Miss Durgin 

Miss MacDonald, Clara 

Miss Buckhout 

Miss Faulkner 

Miss MacGregor 

Miss Carey 

Miss Goss 

Miss Matheson 

Miss Carlen 

Miss Gunderson 

Miss Parsley 

Miss Cody 

Miss Green, G. 

Miss Rice 

Miss Dalton 

Miss Hinckley 

Miss Theisen 

Miss Dodd 

Miss Hubbard 

Miss Westcott 


Pantomime 


Helen Brewer 


The Dreamer 

Alice Pearson 


The Princess Truth 

Mrs. S afford 


The Giant Doubt 

Miss Kingsbury . 


Suspicion 

Miss Moorehead 


The Priest 

Miss Gorman 


The Pedagogue 

Miss Dalton 


The Clown 

Miss Elderdice . 


Fallacy 

, Miss Felker 


King Dwarf 

Miss Hinckley 


Faith, the Blind Girl 


Miss Buckhout 
Miss Faulkner 


Satyrs, Fairies, Bats, Dwarfs 

Senior Recitals 
Miss Green, G. 

Miss MacGregor 

Senior Play 

“The Adventure of Lady Ursula” 


Mr. Putnam 
Miss Theisen 


Miss Aune 
Miss Brown 
Miss Ferris . 
Miss Hutchinson 
Miss MacLean 
Miss Wiggins 


Mrs. Fenton 
Rev. Mr. Blimboe 
Mr. Dent 
. Mills 
Sir Robert Clifford 
Servant 

Miss Willis 


Mrs. Blanchette 
Miss Esmond 
Miss Harris 
Miss Newton 
Miss Oelkers 
Miss Walton 


Quilton 
Miss Fenton 
Earl of Hassenden 
Lady Ursula Barrington 
Mr. Ward 
Mr. Castleton 


Sir George Sylvester 


Class Day Exercises 


Miss Amelia Green, Salutatorian 

Mr. Frederick Dixon, Orator 

Miss Docia Dodd, Poet 

Miss Lillian Clark, Historian 

• Miss Martha L. Carey, Ode 

Post Graduates 

Readers 


Miss Ball 
Miss Bent 


Mrs. Churchil 
Miss Daly 


Miss Walter 
Miss Watts 


Miss Walters 
Miss Case . 
Miss Hartigan 
Miss Clark 
Mrs. Churchill 
Miss Black 
Miss Welsh 
Miss Co ad . 
Miss Ball . 


“Much Ado 

Don Pedro 
Don John 
Claudio 
Benedict 
Leonato 
Antonio 
Conrade 
Borachio 
Friar Francis 


About Nothing” 

Miss Keck . 
Miss Watts 
Miss Daly . 
Miss Whitaker 
Miss Keck . 
Miss Albertson 
Miss Bent . 
Miss Black 
Miss Sullivan 


Dogberry 
Verges 
Sexton 
First Watch 
Messenger 
Hero 
Beatrice 
Margaret 
Ursula 


[ 91 ] 




Jfenting 


“Ahlas you let him keep no companie 
nor allow him 

Money to spend at fence and dancing-school.” 

This is a charge brought against Gos- 
tanzo in Chapman’s notable play of 
“All Fools.” 

A like charge can not be laid at the 
door of Emerson College of Oratory. 
Here every provision is made for both. 
Fencing especially is held out as a choice 
morsel at the top of the ladder; a final 
test of the co-ordination of mind and 
muscle. 

In this form of recreation you are first 
required to provide yourself with a uni- 
form of unique design, which brings in its 
wake a certain sensation of luxury or 
otherwise, according to atmospheric con- 
ditions. Having donned this uniform, 


you are at once introduced to and re- 
quired to familiarize yourself with a 
muscular co-ordination entirely novel 
and somewhat troublesome. Your feet 
are so placed as to form the boundary 
line of two sides of an imaginary square, 
knees well bent and equally, also con- 
tinually. The left hand is held over the 
head and in the right is grasped the 
weapon of offence and defense — the foil — 
always remembering to hold it in line 
with the forearm and pointed approxi- 
mately at your opponent’s eye. 

Three-quarters of an hour spent under 
these conditions sends you out with a 
realization of muscular activity that the 
study of physiology can only hint at. 

A. B., ’12. 


^Basketball 


'Y'HE wild enthusiasm, which flows 
through the veins of the average 
athletic girl, over a basketball game, 
does not approach animated interest in 
our College. Our gymnasium work 
stands for normal bodily development 
and is adapted to the aesthetic side of our 
work. Occasionally, however, the ball 
is brought forth and short games are 
indulged in, but no teams are formed. 

We have some champion players in our 
ranks, such as Miss Amelia Green and 
Miss Brewer, who with a Mercurian 
purchase on terra firma, can, from any 


part of the field, throw a ball that wil 
swish majestically through the air and 
fall gracefully into the basket. The rest 
of us spend most of our time collecting 
ourselves from the floor and finding our 
places. 

Doubtless, if basketball practice were 
pursued more definitely, the Emerson 
girl, despite her dramatic temperament, 
could compete favorably with other 
college girls in this splendid game; but 
the advisability of such a movement is 
argued, from various points of view. 

L. L. C., ’13. 



[ 93 ] 



ibtutientg’ Association 


President 
Vice-President 
Secretary-T reasurer 

Students 

Helena Bradford Churchill, ’12 
Edna Delphin Case, ’12 
Alberta Frances Black, ’12 
Amelia Myrl Green, ’13 
Laura Elizabeth Bell, ’13 
Docia Dodd, ’13 


Mary Ellen Shambach 
Mary Westaway Safford 
Allene Buckhout 

1 Council 

Mildred Eleanor Johnson, ’14 
Elsie Mae Gordon, ’14 
Ethel Vienna Bailey, ’14 
Albert Francis Smith, ’15 
Marguerite Alberta Grunewald, ’15 
Harriet May Brown, ’15 


Board of Directors of the Endowment Association 

Eben Charlton Black William G. Ward 

Charles Winslow Kidder Harry Seymour Ross 

Arthur Allen Stockdale 


O N APRIL, 1908, the students of Emerson 
College organized themselves into a Stu- 
dents’ Association, the object being to 
control all and only such things as pertain to 
the student-body as a whole, and in this way 
to make the true Emerson spirit more keenly 
felt among the students, and to further the 
interests of the College. 

The Association is officered by a President, a 
Vice-President, Secretary-Treasurer, and the 
Students’ Council. This Council consists of 
three officers of the Association as offic?r ex- 
officio, and t welve other members, three from each 


class. Regular monthly meetings are held by the 
Council and here plans are discussed and 
recommended that help the student-body, as a 
whole, and also the Alma Mater. Though quiet- 
ly, the Council has been working effectively this 
year. 

The Emerson College Magazine, which is 
published once a month throughout the year, 
is under the control of the Association which 
has also had charge of the College Year Book, 
The Emersonian, during the last three years. 
It is really the unifying element of all the stu- 
dents of the College. 


[ 94 ] 




looting OTomen’s Christian Association 


Officers and Cabinet 

President 
Vice-President 
Secretary-T reasurer 
Devotional Committee 
Extension Committee 
Membership Committee 
Social Committee 
Music Committee 
Room Committee 
Association-News Committee 
Visiting Committee 


J. M. Matheson 
F. C. Stiles 
P. A. Parsley 
E. D. Case 
N. F. Walter 

L. L. Clark 

M. E. Shamback 

I. M. Macgregor 
E. N. Smart 

J. D. Dodd 
M. A. Cody 


[ 95 ] 



®fje ©met i)our at Cmerfion 

“ Come ye apart and rest awhile” 
Speakers and Subjects 


September 28 

Miss Dupree 

“Prison Life in Philadelphia” 

October 

1 

Rally Day 

Membership Thermometer — 20 

October 

4 

Mrs. Southwick 

“The Content of the Ideal” 

October 

18 

Mr. Locke 

“Civic Service Work” 

October 

25 

Miss M. J. Corbett 

“Getting Acquainted with Jesus” 

November 

1 

Rally Day 

Membership Thermometer — 40 

November 

8 

Mrs. E. C. Black 

“Prayer” 

November 15 

Miss M. Brown 

“Modern Missionary Work” 

November 22 

Miss K. B. George 

“Seeking for Truth” 

December 

1 

Rally Day 

Membership Thermometer — 80 

December 

18 

Mrs. A. A. Stockdale 

“The Christmas Message” 

January 

1 

Rally Day 

Membership Thermometer — 85 

January 

10 

Dr. A. A. Stockdale 

“Taking a New Aim” 

January 

24 

Mrs. J. E. Southwick 

“The Value of an Organization” 

January 

31 

Miss S. Matthews 

“The Y. W. C. A. from a Larger Viewpoint 

February 

1 

Rally Day 

Membership Thermometer — 90 

February 

8 

Rev. Mr. Scott 

“A Day at a Time” 

February 

21 

Miss K. E. Hall 

“Girls in Spain” 

March 

1 

Rally Day 

Membership Thermometer — 100 

March 

14 

Miss G. McQuesten 

“Responsibilities” 

March 

28 

Mrs. M. G. Hicks 

“Confidence” 

April 

11 

Mrs. J. Y. Duryea 

“World Brotherhood” 

April 

18 

Rev. S. C. Lang 

“The Joy of Jesus” 



Social Events 

September 23 

Reception for Students 


October 

10 

Y. W. C. A. Night at Emerson 

February 

14 

Intercollegiate Tea 



[96] 


CANADIAN 



Isabel Macgregor 
Maud Relyea . 


Officers 

President Laura Curtis . Vice-President 

Secretary Mary Cody . Treasurer 

Members 

1912 

Abbie Ball 

1913 

Jean MacLatchy Isabel Macgregor 

Ethelwyn Cunningham Mary Cody 

Ida Leslie Bertha Gorman 

1914 

Laura Curtis Maud Relyea 

1915 

Francis Bradley 

In Facultate 

Agnes Knox Black Elsie Riddell Mrs. Harry Seymour Ross 


Jessie Matheson 
Amelia Green 
Maude MacLean 

Jennie Windsor 


)t Catta&tan Club 1912=1913 


In September we were glad to welcome five 
new members, which swelled our numbers to 
fourteen. 

Our little Club has stood shoulder to shoulder, 
aimed at something and accomplished it. 

For the first time, our Club has been identified 
with a local organization, becoming affiliated 
with the “Woman’s Auxiliary of the Boston 
Canadian Club,” and has in this way enjoyed 
various social functions. 

In February the “Emerson members” gave a 
Program at the Club Rooms to the Woman’s 
Auxiliary and their men friends, which was 
much appreciated. 

During the year several of our girls have given 
teas, and these afforded means of a more in- 
timate acquaintance. 

At various times we have been entertained 


by the Harvard Canadian Club, and we returned 
this hospitality by being “At Home” to our 
friends at the Copley Plaza on March 15. Mrs. 
Harry Ross and Mrs. Charlton Black were the 
hostesses on this occasion. 

Some new pins have been secured in Club 
colors, red and gold, and bearing the letters, 
E. C. C. 

We have plans in mind, to prove our interest 
is not only Canadian but Emersonian, which we 
hope to bring to fruition ere the year closes. 
As ten of the Club members are Seniors and 
Post-graduates, to carry on the work begun 
there must needs be a strong reinforcement 
next fall. It will be the aim of each graduate 
to send a substitute to fill her little part played 
in the Emersonian field. 

I. L. M. 


97 ] 





Delta Delta 


Founded in 1901 


Chapter Roll 


Alpha 

Beta 

Gamma 


New York Froebel Normal 
Chicago Kindergarten College 
Emerson College of Oratory 


Honor any Members 

Henry Lawrence South wick 
Walter Bradley Tripp 
Charles Winslow Kidder 

Harriet C. Sleight 


Mrs. Charles W. Kidder 
William G. Ward 
Mrs. William G. Ward 


Associate Member 

Mrs. Jessie Eldridge Southwick 


Active Members 


1912 

Olive Clark 

1913 

Rhea E. Ashley 
Lillian Aune 
Alice Esmond 
Abbie M. Fowler 


Vera McDonald 
Helen Leavitt 

1914 

Geraldine Jacobi 

1915 

Julie Owens 
Ruth Southwick 


Chapter House, 39 St. Stephen Street, Boston, Mass. 


AA<P 






[ 101 ] 


Colors — Green and White 


liappa ©atnina Cfji 

Charter granted 1902 

Flower — Lily-of-the-Valley 

Honorary Members 

Mrs. William Howland Kenny Miss Lilia Estelle Smith 

Mrs. Harry Seymour Ross Mrs. Edwin Morse Whitney 

Active Members 


1913 

Alice Faulkner Elizabeth Beattie 


Mildred Johnson 
Fern Stevenson 

Minnie Frazine 

Genevieve McGill 


Evelyn Oelkers 
1914 

Anastasia Scribner 
Florence Stiles 

1915- 

Georgette Jette 
Marguerite Grunwald 


Madeleine Tarrant 
Blanche Fisher 

Laura Meredith 
Helen Smith 


\ 


K APPA GAMMA CHI was founded 
in 1892. At the time of its organi- 
zation there were several Chapters in 
the large colleges, but when sororities 
were abolished, they were discontinued. 
At present, the only other Chapter in 
existence is in Ohio Wesleyan. Because 
of the difference in character of the two 
remaining Chapters, they do not enter- 
tain an intersorority relationship. 

The Gamma Chapter has a strong and 


enthusiastic alumnae, which expects and 
demands the highest and best standard 
for its active members. We feel this 
responsibility has been potent in making 
the society count as a valuable asset 
to the school. 

At Emerson, the Kappas have en- 
deavored to be an active force for the 
welfare of every member, thus creating 
a unit of strength in the upbuilding of our 
College. 


[ 102 ] 



KFX 




















































































































































































































































$f)i Jttu 


©amma 



Founded October 17, 1898, at Hollins, Va. 

Colors — Turquoise Blue and Black Flowers — Pink Rosebuds and Forget-Me-Nots Jewel — Pearl 


Active Chapters 


Hollins Institute, Hollins, Va. 

Brenan College, Gainesville, Ga. 

Miss Graham’s School, New York, N. Y. 
Veltin School, New York, N. Y. 
Newcomb College, New Orleans, La. 


New England Conservatory, Boston, Mass. 


Judson College, Marion, Ala. 

Emerson College of Oratory, Boston, Mass. 
Centenary College, Cleveland, Tenn. 
Shorter College, Rome, Ga. 

Woman’s College, Montgomery, Ala. 


Alpha — Birmingham, Ala. 
Beta— Oceola, Fla. 
Gamma — New York City 
Delta — Hattiesburg, Miss. 


Alumnae Chapters 

Epsilon — Valdosta, Ga. 
Zeta — Shreveport, La. 
Eta — Central Alabama 


Theta — Fort Worth, Texas • 
Iota — Gainesville, Ga. 

Kappa — Atlanta, Ga. 
Lambda — New Orleans, La. 


3ota Chapter 

Active Members 


1912 

Marguerite R. Albertson Lillian R. Hartigan 


1913 

Disa Brackett Helen Brewer Leila Dorothy Harris Ruth M. West 


Dorothea Deming 

Bertha McDonough 

Emily F. Brown 

Beatrice Perry 


Miss H. C. Sleight 
Mrs. F. L. Whitney 

Bertha Whitmore 

Miss Jessie Arguelle 


1914 

Florence Newbold 
Sue W. Reddick 


Members — Honorary 
Honorary 
Mrs. E. C. Black 
Mr. W. B. Tripp 

In Urbe 

Mrs. Maude G. Kent 
Miss Edith Wright 


Doris C. Sparrell 
Keturah G. Stokes 


Mrs. M. G. Hicks 
Pres. H. L. Southwick 

Mrs. Oscar Thorpe 
Mr. Edward Hicks 


1915 

E. Carolyn Jones Theodosia Peak 

Marion F. Vincent 


Chapter House, 177 St. Botolph Street 


I N 1907, the local Alpha Tau Lambda joined a 
national sorority and Iota Chapter of the 
Phi Mu Gamma became established. It 
has grown stronger and more firmly established 
each year. 

At the annual conclave held at Old Point Com- 
fort, Virginia, Miss Lillian Hartigan was elected 
a member of the Grand Council. Miss Maud 
Fiske was appointed one of the editors of the 
sorority magazine, The Argaliad. 


Each Chapter of the Phi Mu Gamma is re- 
quired to do some philanthropic work. Iota 
maintains a Post Graduate Scholarship Fund, 
and for this cause a play is given annually. 

The weekly meetings and social functions 
make the path of duty a little easier to tread, 
but the true aim of every Phi Mu Gamma is to 
live up to her sorority’s ideals and thus make the 
Chapter a moral and intellectual force in our 
College. 


[ 104 ] 


1>M r 


% 
































' 






















































































-La France Rose 


Heta $1)1 €ta 

Founded in 1892 

Flower- 

Chapter Roll 

Emerson College of Oratory, Boston 
Cumnock School of Oratory, Chicago 
Honorary Members 

Bertel Glidden Willard Ella G. Stockdale 
Henry Lawrence Southwick Mary Elizabeth Gatchell 

Walter Bradley Tripp Rev. Allen A. Stockdale Elizabeth M. Barnes 

Associate Members 

Gertrude T. McQuesten 


Colors — Rose and White 

Alpha 

Beta 

Edward Phillip Hicks 


Maud Gatchell Hicks 
Elvie Burnett Willard 


Winifred H. Bent 


L. Elizabeth Bell 
Clara Thieson 


Elsie R. Riddell 

Active Members 

1912 

Ruth Watts 

1913 

Dorothy Elderdice 
Florence S. Hinckley 


Gertrude Chamberlin 


Anna M. Keck 

Mary B. Persinger 
Marjorie M. Westcott 


0. Olga Newton 


Rose J. Willis 


1914 

M. Florence Bean Virginia Beraud Marion Grant Marion John 
Mary Louise Carter Louise West Theresa Z. Cogswell 
Jean E. West Laura B. Curtis Jennie E. Windsor 

1915 

Hazel G. Call C. Jean MacDonald 

Chapter House, Hemenway Chambers 


Heta $ljt €ta 


O N March nineteenth of the year nineteen 
hundred and eight, the Phi Eta Sigma 
Sorority of Emerson affiliated with Zeta 
Phi Eta of Cumnock School of Oratory in Evan- 
ston, 111. They were made the Alpha Chapter 
of that Sorority. 

Just before the Phi Eta Sigma became the 
Zeta Phi Eta, the former established a custom 
which they left as a heritage to their new sister- 
hood. Every year this custom has been care- 
fully observed, and the result is a reference 
library of very worthy note. 


The books presented to the College have 
been chosen very carefully, and among others 
is a very well known set of Shakespeare. Refer- 
ence books have been made a special study. 

As the number of books increased, it became 
necessary to have a separate case for them, anti 
in nineteen hundred and twelve the out-going 
girls of Zeta Phi Eta left a lovely mahogany book 
case as a token of their love for their Alma Mater. 

Zeta Phi Eta is an earnest co-worker with all 
Emersonians, and she hopes and strives for their 
success in every line. 


[ 106 ] 









gllpfja ®au 

Alpha Chapter 

Founded at Emerson College of Oratory, 1902 
Chapter Roll . 

Emerson College of Oratory, Boston, Mass. 
University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. 
University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. 
Leland Stanford University, Berkeley, Cal. 
University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. 


Alpha 

Beta 

Gamma 

Delta 

Epsilon 


President 

Secretary 

Treasurer 

Sergeant-at-Arms 


Officers 

Stephen C. Lang 
Robert Howes Burnham 
Walter Bradley Tripp 
William G. Ward 


Active Members 


Robert Howes Burnham 
Frederick R. Dixon 
Stephen C. Lang 
Albert Russell Lovejoy 


Wayne Wooster Putnam 
John James Roy 
Henry Lawrence Southwick 
Walter Bradley Tripp 
William G. Ward 


Honorary Members 

E. Charlton Black, A. M., LL. D. Charles T. Grilley 

Richard Burton, Ph. D. Edwin Whitney 

Allen Arthur Stockdale 


[ 108 ] 



College Clients! 


September 27 

Freshman Hazing- 

October 

26 

Junior Hallowe’en Dance 

October 

19 

Senior Class Dance 

October 

10 

Y. W. C. A. Reception 

November 21 

Senior Stunt 

December 

7 

Junior Stunt 

December 

12 

Bungalow Dance (Seniors) 

December 

18 

Junior Auction Sale 
Riverbank Court Dance 

March 

24-29 

Junior Week 

March 

28 

Junior Prom, Copley Plaza 

April 

10 

Freshman Dance, Richards Hall 

April 

12 

Inter-Sorority Dance, Whitney Hall 


®fje Ulumnt 



Officers of the Alumni Association 

Charles Winslow Kidder President 

Mary L. Sherman Vice-President 

Mrs. Priscilla C. Puffer Secretary-Treasurer 


Executive Committee 


Phineas P. Field, ’83 
Jessie E. Southwick, ’85 
Minnie Tapley Miller, ’87 
Lilia E. Smith, ’89 
Walter B. Tripp, ’89 
Maud Gatchell Hicks, ’93 


Edith Whitmore, ’93 
Charles W. Paul, ’97 
Theresa Kidder ,’98 
Stella Ripley MacKenzie, ’02 
Helena Richardson, ’03 
Edwin Morse Whitney, ’02 
Anna E. Marmein, ’06 
Associations 


Emerson College Club of Hartford 
Emerson College Club of Minneapolis 
Emerson College Club of Chicago 
Emerson College Club of New York 
Emerson College Club of Boston 
Emerson College Club of Rhode Island 
Emerson College Club of Syracuse, N. Y. 
Emerson College Club of Los Angeles 


Wo t fce gUumttt 


W E ALWAYS have news of our Alumni 
in the Magazine, so it is almost un- 
necessary to say much about them here; 
though we can all agree that any news con- 
cerning those who represent us in the world is 
welcomed with pleasure. 

We all have friends among the Alumni, else 
how should we be here? And it is indeed an 
inspiration to us, who hope some day to be 
Alumni, to hear of the work done by the differ- 
ent organizations. 

It shows that the spirit of Emerson does not 
end with the graduation of the student, but 
continues in his life afterwards and is kept alive 
by association with the nearest group of Emer- 
sonians that have banded together for that 
purpose. 

We hear of the different groups, also, through 
the Endowment Association. For, you know, 


we are all working toward one end in that move- 
ment, and it does not remain in the active Col- 
lege members alone, but in those who would be 
thereby benefited, to work to their best ability 
for the accomplishment of so worthy a purpose. 

There are those of the Alumni who, though 
they are not affiliated with any one organiza- 
tion of them, are plodding their ways through 
the world just the same and making good, too. 
We like to hear of them sometimes, for Emerson 
is always back of us and interested in us wherever 
we are or whoever we may be. 

And then at the Reunions of Commence- 
ment, what a time there is. They come back 
from all over the country and the greetings of 
the old friends are indeed a revelation of the 
feelings that will always exist between every- 
one, even though we meet but seldom, because 
we have been through Emerson together. 



ruN 


If these jokes don’t 
Appeal to you, 

Why didn’t you 
Write us up a few? 

Freshmen: Pathfinders. 

Juniors: Deer (dear) slayers. 

Seniors: The Pioneers. 

Post Grads: The Last of the Mohicans. 
Alumni : The Prairie. 

Apropos of Romeo in love with Love : 
“He was an Englishman and he was 
much in love. He vowed, ‘I cawn’t 
sleep, cawn’t eat, cawn’t do anything, 
Domn it!’ ” Please drawl ! 


Her pa heard her give the P. G. yell, 
For joy he could not speak. 

He murmured, “Mother, listen 
To our darling talking Greek.” 


She was a constant matinee goer and 
that is why she confused the shows, but 
she said she had seen “The Garden of 
Disraeli.” 


Expression — Unnecessary to evolution. 
Magazine — Prompt and interesting. 
Elocution — Newly coined word. 
Rehearsals — Many and lengthy. 
Sororities — Universal brotherhood. 

Omar Khayyam — Fully comprehended. 
Noise — A graceful stage fall. 

Cupid — A foreign body. 

O — A tongue vowel. 

Lessons — First thoughts. 

Laziness — An unknown quantity. 
Engagements — Warranted not to break. 
Gesture — A thing of beauty. 

Exams — A joy forever. 

DAY AFTER PROM 
Miss Flirtatious — We were in the 
balcony all alone, and he told me how 
they won that game — a regular dramatic 
narrative. 

Sourgrapes — Did he hold his audi- 
ence? 

Whom did Hilda and Leila Harris? 

Graduate — When shall we ever be- 
come acquainted with Rossetti? 

Freshman — Can’t someone give an 
afternoon tea so all the girls can meet 
him? 


She called up Hayden’s and asked, 
“Why haven’t our costumes arrived?” 

Haydens — What were they for, ‘The 
School for Scandal’? 

Girl (indignantly) — No, indeed, for 
the Emerson College of Oratory! 

“Why are you putting on that kind of 
make-up?” 

“I want to dye young.” 


A Recital Class : A lesson in abandon — 
Dodd and Durgin, pupils. 

Instruction given by teacher to stand 
before the class, hand in hand, and shout 
something very shocking. 

Response — What the devil do we 
care! 

If Cicero had nerve, Caesar had Gaul. 


She was making up for the play but 
she looked so dejected over it that some- 
one observed, “What’s the matter? 
What are you in?” 

“Why, I am in ‘The Shadow of the 
Glen.’ ” 

Lives of editors remind us 

That their lives are not sublime; 

And they have to work like thunder 
To get the book out in time. 


[ 112 ] 


Had to Work on an Essay 
Had to practice 
Had to plaY for a rehearsal 

Had To go shopping 
Had a Headache 
Had to cram for an Exam 

Had the Year Book to do 

Had no alarm Clock 

Had Lines to learn 

Had to go to the Costumers Had A date with (?) 

Had to get some lUnch Had to “Supe” with Mantell 

Had a maTinee date Had callerS 

Had to eat my brEakfast 


NOTICE 

Anyone interested in Ancient History 
should read some of the notices on the 
bulletin board. 


Helen (in tears [?]) — Mr. Kenny hurt 
my feelings awfully today. 

Girls — How? 

Helen — He told me to hum an ‘n’ 
and when I did, he said it sounded like 
‘ell.’ 


Ara’s Bible Study — “And the churches 
were filled with cannibals” (candles). 


ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS 

She — No we don’t guarantee anything. 
Have you tried shaving? 

Thinker — We know of no remedy for 
your ability to think while on your feet. 
If you do not apologize for it, it will 
probably not be noticed. 

Diligence — The first step in pursuing 
your studies diligently is to get behind 
in them. 


A RECIPE FOR KISSES 

To one piece of dark piazza add a little 
moonlight; take for granted two people; 
press in two strong ones, a small, soft 
hand; sift lightly two ounces of attraction 
and one of romance; add a large measure 
of jollity; stir in a floating ruffle and one 
or two whispers; dissolve one-half dozen 
glances in a well of silence; a small 
quantity of hesitation; one ounce of 
resistance; place kisses on a flushed 
cheek and set aside to cool. It will 
succeed in any climate if directions are 
carefully followed. 


Had to See him 

JUST A DITTY 

A classic play 
(So runs my lay), 

The lead, a fair-haired girl. 

Her role, a man, 

All spick and span, 

In coal-black wig, a-curl. 

A long applause 
And glad ha-has — 

In dramatics she had won. 

The curtain down, 

She smiles all roun’, 

But the real play’d just begun. 
She doffed the wig, 

Changed her rig, 

Went home and wrote her mother. 
Some weeks went by ; 

With tear in eye, 

The poor girl wrote another. 

One parasite, 

With main and might, 

Had grown to fearful numbers. 
The awful gain 
Drove her neaj insane, 

And kept her from her slumbers. 
At last a friend 
Was induced to lend 
A helping hand in the cause. 

A druggist’s prescription, 

A comb of fine description, 

And search without a pause. 

When conquered at last, 

To another cast, 

This lady, Tripp did assign. 

So she brought her wig home, 

Used larkspur and comb; 

But before not after this time. 


Does Albert Lovejoy? 


What did Marion Grant? 


[ 113 ] 



<£>ur Co=€tis 


The preparation for the Van Dyke 
Recital program was a failure and in 
chagrin, Disa, the captain, announced, 
“No one else has anything ready, but I 
can give you a ‘Handful of Clay.’ ” 


They were working on their stage plot, 
when one sighed, “Now everything has 
been properly located but where shall I 
put the soft music?” 

“Somewhere near the slow curtain, 
I think.” 


A bunch of E. C. 0. girls occupied 
second balcony, first row center, Shubert 
Theatre. One girl, having a cramp in her 
toe, removed her shoe. It was hastily 
confiscated by one of the party and sent 
along the line. Later, a search for the 
shoe resulted in its discovery among the 
wraps of a stranger, who embarrassingly 
asked, “Why, how did it get here?” The 
owner explained, “You see, it’s a Walk- 
Over.” 


She was seldom prepared for Recitals, 
but her last effort suggested good intent. 
It was entitled “Work.” 


“Helen, how much did your ‘Moral 
Education’ cost?” 

H.— “A dollar sixty.” 

“Oh, it doesn’t cost that in Halifax.” 


She was rehearsing her business for 
blind Pygmalion and stood before her 
mirror with her eyes tightly closed. 
Thus her room mate found her and asked, 
“What are you doing, anyway?” Sur- 
prised and realizing her foolish act, she 
stammered out, “Why, — trying to see 
how I look with my eyes shut.” 


A notice on the Bulletin Board read 
as follows: 

“Wanted, by a Saturday student, the 
return of the fountain pen borrowed by 
a ‘regular’ whose name and face I can’t 
recall.” 

Beneath it was found written later: 
“I borrowed your pen, but how am I td 
know who you are?” 


When an awful crash preceded one 
of the “Shrew” scenes, Mr. Tripp was 
heard to remark, “It takes a lot of noise 
to tame that Shrew.” 


They were rehearsing the tomb scene 
in “Romeo and Juliet” and every kiss 
was punctuated with a giggle. In des- 
peration, he begged, “Don’t mind me. 
Try to think it’s Romeo.” 

She — “O h, I don’t care who it is.” 


A FEW ON THE FACULTY 

Dean Ross was lecturing on Keats and 
Shelley. But in a moment of confusion, 
he found himself expatiating on Sheats 
and Kelly. 

Mr. Kidder in Acoustics: — “Now, take 
for example, a homely physical illustra- 
tion. Here’s Miss C right on the 

front row — .” 

Dr. Ward in self defense :— “Don’t you 
ever believe anything bad about me, for 
confound it, there are 2,000 W. G. Wards 
in this world, so give me that many 
chances.” 

The height of Mr. Tripp’s disgust: — 
“ ‘Pooh, pooh’ three times and two 
‘Tuts.’ ” 


THREE GIRLS TALKING 

Miss B. — “Oh, girls! George brought 
me the loveliest gas lamp. Wasn’t that 
sweet of him?” 

Miss C.— “I gas so!” 

Miss L. — “Shady thing, but it casts 
some light on the subject.” 

Trying to make out the hieroglyphics 
commonly known as stage directions, 
“Well! What does L. E. R. mean?” 
Earnest Student — “Why — er — the 
left end of the right door, of course!” 


THE MORNING OF EXAM 

One Girl — “Can you remember any- 
thing about this?” 

The Other (in desperation) — “Nope, 
my memory’s a thing of the past.” 


THREE GIRLS CONVERSING 

One — “Don’t be so dic-dic-dicta- 
torial.” 

Another — “Why so much emphasis 
on the ‘die’?” 

The Other — “You know, she’s inter- 
ested in Richard.” . 


[ 115 ] 


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EMERSON GOL1EGE OF ORATORY 

HENRY LAWRENCE SOUTHWICK, President 


EMERSON COLLEGE OF ORATORY, of Boston, is chartered by 
£ the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and has a larger number of teachers 

and pupils than any similar institution in the United States. It teaches 
oratory as an art resting upon absolute laws of nature, explained and il- 
lustrated by exact rules of science, and gives a thorough training in all the principles 
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The complete course qualifies students to become professors and teachers of 
elocution and oratory in institutions of learning, as well as to become public 
readers. Seventy graduates were placed last year in colleges, normal and high 
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A complete system of Physical Training and Voice Culture, a new method of 
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THE LARGEST SCHOOL OF ORATORY IN AMERICA 

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INSTRUCTORS AND LECTURERS 


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Harry S. Ross, Dean 
William G. Ward, A. M. 

Eben Charlton Black, A. M., LL. D. 
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Leon H. Vincent 
Earl Barnes 
Walter B. Tripp 
Charles W. Kidder 
Silas A. Alden, M. D. 

William H. Kenny 
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We propose to serve intelligently 
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FINE STATIONERY 

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EVOLUTION OF EXPRESSION 

Complete revised introduction and explanatory notes 
for the aid of the teacher and student. Published 
in four volumes. Price 50 cents each; post, 5 cents. 

PHYSICAL CULTURE 

Unique and Original System of Psycho-Physical 
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post, 15 cents per copy. 

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Gesture as a universal law and as an expression of 
mind through muscle. Aesthetic laws of bodily ex- 
pression explained with illustrations from Classic 
Art. Price SL.50; post, 15 cents per copy. 

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A Text Book for teachers and students presenting 
the Emerson System of Voice Culture. Exercises 
for securing freedom and proper direction of tone. 
Price $1.50; post, 15 cents per copy. 

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Arranged for the purpose of assisting those who have 
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A NEW BOOK OF SIX LECTURES 

Given by Charles Wesley Emerson, before students 
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For all Publications, address 

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LANGUAGES: French, Italian, German and Spanish. 

THE FREE privileges of lectures, concerts, and recitals, 
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